Unspeakable Darkness
by Phoenix Boy
Summary: Post OotP. Sent back in time after the effects of the failed Cruciatus interact with his home's wards, Harry is taken in by the Unspeakables and sent to keep the Slytherins on the side of the light.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi all! Long time, no post. Finally, I've decided that I'm just about ready to start posting my new epic, just as long as I don't change my mind again about whose POV to write from. This is a character sketch I did that I'm using as a prologue. The first chapter will be up soon.

* * *

I can be a magpie, a thief raiding the homes of the wealthy; a voyeur, a fly-on-the-wall in their most private moments. I am a hunter, ruthless, merciless, my power unlimited, the world as my prey. 

I am a shadow, passing unseen and unknown, a figment of the imagination, a reflection of a hero, dark and strong.

My name is unknown by even the few who know me. When I am mentioned, they shudder with fear. I am an assassin, I can kill without reason, without guilt, without sorrow.

I am the product of their fears and insecurities, a creation of their petty plottings and schemes. I was born to be famous, deadly and terrible, and my presence is death.

They have named me, the sore on the purity of humanity, and none who have met me survived.

I am the Unspeakable, flee while you can.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

It was towards the end of the summer holidays and yet the Great Hall at Hogwarts was still full to bursting after the evening meal, lit by the hundreds of flickering candles suspended in mid-air. Adults spread out among the tables nursing steaming tankards of firewhisky and other still more powerful concoctions, little jets of smoke shooting up towards the enchanted ceiling from all over the room.

It had been over two years now since Lord Voldemort had returned in all his glory after the Triwizard Tournament and the school itself had become a haven and a base for both the adults and children of the Light during the skirmishes of the past year. Thankfully, there had been fewer casualties than had been feared: it seemed the Dark Lord had been testing their strength while he built up his own forces. An all-out offensive was yet to begin and preparations were underway to meet it when it came.

Indeed, the Order of the Phoenix was currently in residence in the school, although most would return to safe houses and other, more secret places at the beginning of the term, where there would be no concerns about youthful spies.

Among the newest members were Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, now about to enter their seventh year at Hogwarts as Head Girl and senior prefect respectively. Both had earned their place and were, compared to many years older, seasoned veterans. Severus Snape, however, still regarded them as children not yet fully exposed to the horrors of war. There was little short of true combat that could prepare you fully and no member of the order was quite willing to contemplate putting people in the front line before they were out of school. The place beside the pair had been empty for a year now for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was missing, presumed by many to be dead.

Severus Snape sighed, contemplating his thick nettle soup solemnly. He had never admittedly been fond of the boy, easily irritated by his reckless attitude. Gryffindor bravery only counted so far before it became outright stupidity. The previous summer, while supposedly safe at the home of his Muggle relatives, Harry Potter had vanished without trace. He himself was almost certain the boy was at least alive, Albus Dumbledore having confided in him that a confidential message had arrived from the Department of Mysteries a few days after the disappearance. If the Unspeakables were involved, he would not be seen again until they judged him ready and needed but return he would and that alone was enough to give him hope that the war would someday end.

His own position as a spy was hazardous to say the least. Recent intelligence had given rise to suspicions about Dark Lord's trust in him. Should that be the case, his task would be at an end and he would be at liberty to follow his own conscience and return to the Unspeakables who had given him a purpose after his grandfather's death. That was, if the Dark Lord hadn't tortured him to death first.

To say he was startled when the hall fell silent would have been an understatement. Since most members of the Order were Gryffindors, the other houses being more cautious about declaring their loyalties, mealtimes tended to be loud and boisterous, only announcements from Albus Dumbledore quieting down the savage hordes.

Severus looked up to see a slender figure framed perfectly in the center of the double doors at the far end of the hall. The person was of average height - tall for a woman, quite short for a man - and was heavily cloaked in a swathe of heavy dark fabric that shimmered in the candlelight. He squinted at it, hoping to confirm a suspicion. Yes, demiguise hair was the only fabric known with that effect. Rarely seen outside the manufacture of the highly prized invisibility cloaks, the Unspeakables favoured it in concealing their identities since it concealed the person within completely in shadows but obscured none of their vision. Held securely to their chest was an intricately carved wooden chest, the features of which he could not yet make out.

Slowly, once their attention had been obtained, the Unspeakable in the doorway slowly began to make their way up the central aisle to the head table where Severus was sitting with an air of subtle drama that made him almost certain that it was a former Slytherin. After placing the box carefully in front of the headmaster in the center of the table - it was hardly politic to do otherwise given the current state of near martial law - the person stepped backwards slightly and bowed deeply to him, which Albus acknowledged gravely by inclining his head.

They paused for a moment then turned towards him. He was standing before he knew it, grasping the outstretched hand over the table - this was neither the time nor the place for a tear-jerking show of emotion. The hand was small and cool in his: Artemis then. A mission like this, approaching him like this: it couldn't be anyone else.

A moment.

She stepped back, inclined her head to the others at the table and swept from the hall, pausing for a moment in the doorway to glance back inside. Yes, Artemis was perhaps the only Unspeakable who would allow herself the luxury of an emotional pause like that. As the doors closed behind her, the Order members inside burst out in riotous discussion.

Towards the centre of the table, some of the other senior order members were attempting to open the chest, apparently without much luck. Interfering busybodies! Dumbledore himself was sitting back enjoying his wine, so there was clearly no reason for them to be getting involved immediately.

That said, he took a distinct amount of pleasure in stalking around the table - thus avoiding having elbow Moody out of the way - and placing his palm carefully over the spider's web intricately carved in the lid. There was a quiet click and the top swung open, revealing a number of small, identically bound books stacked carefully inside.

As the others stared at the box, not quite daring to touch the contents after their difficulties in opening it, Minerva McGonagall's eyes were on him.

"Does that mean they're coming home?" she asked quietly, searching his face.

"That would appear to be the case."

She smiled; he didn't permit himself to.

"It's about time," she said shortly, though it was clear she was pleased.

Carefully, he shut the box again and cradled it to his chest as he made his way towards the side door through which he could cut down to his quarters. As he left, one particularly loud voice rose above the others.

"Who was that? He knew ISnape/I! I thought the Unspeakbles were on our side."

He paused, listening with morbid curiosity. It was no secret what most of the Order thought about him.

"A senior Unspeakble," McGonagall replied calmly. "Given when we last worked with them and that they got through the wards without disturbing them, I would guess a longer standing Order member than you and likely a longer surviving one than you if you don't watch your mouth."

"It's only Snape," the man protested, Aidan Lynch, or so Severus believed. World famous seeker and the man was still treated as a rather slow schoolboy by Minerva. Thank goodness Severus himself had passed that stage. That said, he had never been quite as naïve as this dunderhead. It was nice to know that she would stoop to defend him as though he were one of her lion cubs.

Severus watched as Minerva frowned sternly at the young man. Really, they were fighting a war here, not running a duelling club for squabbling first years.

"And he is only our most valuable agent and the Unspeakbles number among them the only Blood Mage currently practicing and the Runemaster he works with. Both, I should add, were close to Severus when they were in school."

"Oh," Lynch said, voice wavering slightly. Severus smirked as he walked out of earshot. No matter that Jason Derwent was almost Gryffindor-like in his sense of honour or that he practiced the art in the ancient way, which was classified as the purest of light magic, he was still considered a dangerous man. Even Severus would agree that that description was very, very true. The Unspeakable of the Unspeakables, as the premier assassin known to the wizarding world, could hardly be otherwise

He had known from the instant he laid eyes on them that the books were journals. Jason's journals. The journals that were the record every Unspeakable was required to keep throughout his career, normally sealed carefully away from any eye but their owner's.

Once he reached his chambers, he cast his dignity aside and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the box. On top of the neatly stored books was a single sheet of parchment scrawled on in familiar, messy handwriting that their teachers had learned to despair of.

__

Authorization given to Agent Viper to study these records compiled by Agent Derwent given August 24th 1997 in preparation to supporting Agent Derwent in a forthcoming mission.

He could scarcely contain his surprise when they started at the unprecedented age of fifteen. He knew his friend had been young but hadn't quite realized he'd been a full Unspeakable before the age of sixteen or seventeen.

**__**

Journal of events

__

Agent Number: 1007

Agent ID: Derwent

Date at enrolment: 17th October 1977

Record Number: 0001

Age at commencement of record: 15

Date at commencement of record: 17th October 1977

This is the journal of Jason Melchior Derwent, once Harry James Potter, aged 15 years, 11 months, 3 days and begins with events that took place 3rd July 1996.

I suppose it began at the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts when I returned to my relative's house for the summer. It seemed like any other year but when we passed Wisteria Walk, where I guess the wards around the house reached to, I felt pain pass through my body and I am fairly sure there was a very bright white light. Discussing it today with some Unspeakables, I think it must have happened because I attempted to cast a Cruciatus Curse that earlier that summer and the wards were meant to repel dark magic. They must have reacted badly when the person they were tuned to protect also counted as a dark wizard they protected against. That wasn't clear but I can't think how else to say it.

I must have fainted. When I came to, I was lying on the pavement and there was no sign of the car, my things or my relatives, not that I was too upset about that last. . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Harry came to with a groan and, trying to ignore the throbbing in the back of his head, forced his eyes open. He appeared to be in Little Whinging still and was quite alone - not a kidnapping attempt then. There was, however, no sign of his relatives.

He sighed and shut his eyes again. He'd obviously been abandoned for the summer and that was perfectly okay for him since he really couldn't summon the effort to move just yet.

He started upwards when a loud crack sounded just metres from him, hand going for his wand in the back pocket of his jeans, buttocks endangered or not.

"Hello there," came a cheerful voice from above him and he was helped carefully to his feet and then flashed an ID card. "Department of Mysteries, Head of the Time related Accidents department. Please accompany me to -"

"Time related accidents?" Harry exclaimed, shocked. What the hell had he done this time? He looked around, mildly panicked. It was definitely Little Whinging - that was Dudley's friend Piers's house - but somehow different. The cars would probably have fetched a fortune as antiques, for one thing.

"I know we're a small department and haven't actually done anything since the timeturner scandal of 1784 but I ask you! You should have covered us in History of Magic by now - what is Hogwarts teaching these days?"

"No, no, it's just that I didn't know I'd done anything. Well, except blacking out but that does happen quite often…"

"Really? Let me make a note on that. I'm honoured to be the one in charge of your case, youngster. We'll have you sorted in no time."

"Thanks," Harry said helplessly. "I'm Ha..."

"No names please - it might cause problems in the future despite complete confidentiality. You'll be provided with everything you need, including an identity. If you would hold onto my arm tightly please, I will need your co-operation for Side-Along-Apparition to the Department of Mysteries."

Harry considered it for a moment. Honestly, he had no idea what an Unspeakable's ID looked like, if they even had them. That said, a Death Eater wouldn't have wasted the time saying hello - they tended to get straight to the gloating, torture and killing part of the conversation. The longer he stayed out in the open, the higher the chances of them tracking him down. He'd rather take his chances with the Ministry.

Harry gripped the man's arm, a little nervous. He hadn't known that it was possible to Apparate two people at once. Still, the man seemed very confident…

Harry felt the man's arm twist away from him and tightened his grip: the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull, and then...

He hit the ground with a thud, gasping as existing bruises came into contact with a hard floor. Blinking spots out of his eyes and gasping in deep breaths, he looked around him curiously. He was in a small room, an office most likely. There were no windows, just a desk and bookcases packed to overflowing. Papers and journals were stacked knee high on the floor. He gingerly threaded his way through them to collapse into a chair.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, weaving his way through the mess to take a seat behind the desk.

"I think so," Harry said, wriggling a foot that had been jarred in the landing to check for serious damage. "Where am I exactly?"

"Where or when, kid? It doesn't really matter. You're currently in my office in the Department of Mysteries, located below the Ministry of Magic and the date is 17th June 1977."

Harry sat down again abruptly. That was years! It was before he'd even been born! It was before... well, no, it probably wasn't before his parents were born but Merlin's blood, it was probably before his parents had even got married.

"You may call me Mr Roberts; I'm the Unspeakable temporarily in charge of your case."

Harry opened his mouth to reply,

"No! Don't tell me your name - I can't know anything about you other than the most general things, unless of course, you come from the past? That would simplify matters greatly but the trend is the other direction."

"No. I supose I'm from the future. Your future, anyway - my past." The logistics were making his head spin.

"Less than fifty years?"

Harry nodded cautiously. That would make sense given that things outside hadn't seemed so different from the Little Whinging he knew.

"Good - then it won't be so much different from what you're used to."

"You mean you can't just… just…"

"Send you back?" Mr Roberts asked gently. "No, I'm afraid not. Accidental time travel over years is very different from that of just a few hours using time turners. The sheer power involved would be astronomical. I'm sorry for your sake that you're going to have to make your life here from now on."

"On my own?" Harry asked. "But… my uncle and aunt aren't here, so -"

"We're not that heartless, kid. From the moment of your arrival, you have been counted as an Unspeakable with all rights and privileges that come with that. You've got a home here as long as you want it and we'll set you up with a cover story so that you can go to Hogwarts as soon as you've passed your basic training and acclimatisation. You haven't finished school, have you?"

"N-no," Harry managed to say. He was never going to see Ron and Hermione again and Remus would be going frantic with worry about him probably. "I got back from my fifth year today."

He had to look away from the pity in Mr Roberts' eyes.

"We'll be able to see you safely through school and then if you want to find another job and get a flat of your own, we'll help you there as well. But that is interesting, very interesting. I shall have to make a note of that - you haven't travelled straight years back, but there's also been a seasonal displacement. Now, with your permission, I will leave you here while I fetch the head of our department. Please, feel free to look through the books here - you should start to think about how you would like to be called."

Harry nodded, scanning the room. As Mr Roberts left he gripped his wand firmly in his hand and moved to sit on the floor on the other side of a large armchair tucked against the wall, where he would have at least minimal protection from someone attacking him from the door side. His head was spinning; he had to think things through before he could decide what to do. However kind Mr Roberts appeared to be, things had moved too fast for him to process all the information yet.

To start of with, he was apparently in the past with very little proof of either that or the identity of the people who had him. Well, what if they had lied to him? He didn't know how to Apparate, he had no real way of getting outside and didn't really have a clue where he was. If that was the case, since they didn't seem to have any immediate to harm him, he'd probably be best just to go along with it and maybe he'd have a chance to learn something useful.

If they were telling the truth, well, that could be a problem. Damn it, he had responsibilities in his own time without starting to worry about theirs as well! Besides, he didn't know anyone here, the Order would be worrying themselves silly - or at least he hoped they would be - and he'd have to wait about twenty years before he could see them again.

That is, until he saw his friends. Since they planned to send him to Hogwarts here, if his guesses were right, he'd be within a year or two of his parents. That... that wouldn't be so bad. Weird, but in a good way. He'd have a chance to study before facing Voldemort as well and get some professional training. That could only be a good thing.

With that, Harry decided to make the best of his situation. He was going to co-operate and learn to fight, to kill if necessary and, if he had the chance, get to know his parents. Suddenly he grinned. Of course, Ron and Hermione wouldn't be worrying about him because he could always turn up just as he'd vanished, just twenty odd years older, and they might not even know he was gone!

With that thought, he turned to the shelf of books by the desk and took a seat, pulling out an old-looking naming book and pureblood genealogy. He needed to find a name that he could live with for as long as necessary, a name that no one would be able to connect with Harry Potter, now or in the future. As for the pureblood idea, well, given that he was probably as likely to go to Slytherin as Gryffindor - after all, he would be sneaking around under a new name - fitting in would make it much more pleasant. There had to be some little-known family whose name he could 'adopt'.

He flicked through the book, discarding immediately any prominent or wealthy families he came across. Posing as a Malfoy might be amusing but he doubted the illusion would last long. As he quickly discovered, there were far fewer families than he would have expected, though each seemed to have a few branches in various parts of the country. Since physical characteristics like the Malfoy hair also seemed to run true, he managed to narrow down his search to a dozen or so. Reading more carefully, he selected one with a history for sitting very steadfastly on the fence in every conflict down the ages. They seemed to run to only children, the current heir and only surviving member of the family being an eighty-year-old recluse, employment unknown or non-existent. If he was indeed with the Unspeakables, he was sure they could arrange for Mr Derwent to vouch for a young son or grandson when necessary.

Harry picked up the naming book with a sigh. On the front was the rather degrading title 'A Thousand Traditional Names for your Child'. Well, he could discard half of those straight off. He was not going to turn into a girl just because he liked a name.

He spent a long time narrowing down the names to a short list of ten. He would have to live with this name. He didn't want anything already owned by someone he knew and he had to be able to live with it. Breaking into uncontrollable laughter every time someone said it would not be helpful.

Absorbed in his task, he jumped as he heard the soft tread of footsteps outside. He rolled out of the chair with little regard for his comfort, wand out and ready as he landed. He cautiously put his head up when he heard a soft, amused laugh.

"I see we will have little to teach you of paranoia, child," a quite voice said. The speaker, a severe looking gentleman of perhaps a sprightly seventy, took a seat on the chair behind the desk. "Well, sit down."

Harry quickly scrambled back up, feeling a little embarrassed at being quite so distrustful. He was sure that it wasn't normal for a fifteen year old to expect to be attacked by random strangers.

"I am Agent Nemesis, Head of the Department of Mysteries. I am the one person who you are encouraged to tell anything about your past life. But first, I must welcome you to our time and home. I hope you will come to consider it yours also. It is many years since we have had a arrival such as yourself yet I feel confident that the systems we have in place will be able to guide you through it with the least disruption."

"Thank you sir."

"Before I ask anything else, I must ask you a few details: your name and date of birth. Because of my position, I am the only person authorised to be in possession of these facts since I must ensure that we do nothing to disrupt the timeline."

Harry took a deep breath. He was aware that this might be the last time he said either of those things for a long, long time.

"I'm Harry James Potter. I was born on July 31st 1980."

"That isn't so far from now. When that date comes, you must be very careful about being near your younger self. There have been very few experiments conducted on this subject but it is almost universally agreed that being in too close proximity could have disastrous effects. However, you will have time to finish school before this becomes an issue and we will be able to set arrangements in place in advance, so disruption should be minimal. I would assume that you are a sixth year?"

"Yes sir. I was just starting my summer holiday before sixth year when this happened."

"You will be a few weeks behind when you join Hogwarts then, we will try to help you catch up on your studies. Have you given any thought to a name?"

"I thought maybe 'Derwent' as a surname, if that's possible, and I've got a few names that I'm thinking about."

"An interesting choice. As it happens, Melchior Derwent did some work for the Aurors in his younger days - it will be a minor matter to gain his cooperation. I won't hurry you to pick a forename but remember, if you are in doubt, go with whatever feels right to you. An incident like this rarely happens without reason and there may be times when you are guided into the correct decisions."

Harry glanced back at the sheet of parchment where he'd scrawled the names down.

"I think I know then, sir: Jason Derwent. That is okay, isn't it?"

For a second, it looked like the old man was surprised, then he smiled with satisfaction.

"A good, classical name, even if the Muggles have begun to use it more frequently recently. You are aware, I am sure, that you will also require a middle name. Would Melchior be acceptable? It is customary to name the son after his father or grandfather."

Harry nodded. Jason Melchior Derwent - it sounded strange to his ears but still better than being called Draco or Regulus or Rodolphus.

"The next thing I believe must be settled is your living arrangements. Normally, the procedure would be to have you enter the Department as an Unspeakable and move into the quarters that come with the post. You, however, are still at school, so an alternative arrangement will have to be made. I'm impressed by how you're handling yourself in this situation and I can trust that you're magically powerful enough to trigger an extreme magical reaction or you wouldn't be sitting here. I'm prepared to offer you an apprenticeship under me that would allow you to join us immediately. Alternatively, we'll arrange a foster family for you until you come of age. The choice is yours."

Harry thought for a moment. He didn't like the sound of a foster family - it sounded too much like the Dursleys. He'd far rather be doing something, actively training or studying. The apprenticeship sounded like a good idea, certainly he didn't want to be left to cope on his own, but then he didn't really know what an apprenticeship would involve.

"Could you possibly tell me about it sir, I'm afraid I've never really heard about it before and…"

The man smiled. He reminded Harry somewhat of Dumbledore, in that he seemed completely in control of the situation even though Harry's arrival must have taken him by surprise.

"It is always better to admit ignorance than attempt to fake knowledge. By taking you as my apprentice, I am promising to provide you with your basic necessities - accommodation, food, clothing etc - as well as my instruction in return for your service as an Unspeakable. The contract would be ended either when I deem you competent or after a period of five years, whichever occurs sooner. There are various regulations protecting both sides of the partnership during this time period."

"I think I can agree to that sir."

"I will warn you now that you won't enjoy some of it. I intend to work you hard, harder than even most of the department's recruits that have been through high level training already. I don't take mediocre apprentices. Are you still willing?"

Harry thought about it for a moment then smiled wryly: what had his life been up 'til now except hard work. This was probably the best way for him to learn.

"Yes sir."

"Excellent. Take my hand and repeat after me: 'I, Jason Melchior Derwent, do request a general apprenticeship from the Unspeakable Nemesis'"

Harry dutifully repeated this.

"I, the Unspeakable Nemesis, do solemnly swear to care for Jason Melchior Derwent and to educate him as I see fit to do his duty to myself and his family. So mote it be."

Golden threads shot out from Harry's wand, still in his pocket, and from Nemesis' to encircle their joined hands. After a moment, the shimmering faded leaving only the afterimage. Harry blinked the spots away to focus again on his new teacher.

"So that is done. Come, I will take you to your new rooms. As my apprentice, you will have a bedroom in my quarters. I am sure you are hungry by now."

Harry's stomach gave a embarrassingly loud rumble right on cue and he flushed guiltily. Nemesis laughed.

"You are hardly the first boy I have taught, child. After a day such as this one, I doubt there is much you wish for more than a good meal and an early night. Both are easily provided."

Shortly afterwards, he opened a plain looking door to reveal a warm and cluttered living room which he ushered Harry into.

"This is the main room. You have free access to anything that you can find in here: books, artefacts: the lot. The room to your left is my bedroom. I would prefer that you stay out unless there is an emergency and I of course will extend you the same courtesy. I have an en suite bathroom, as do you. Your rooms are to your right - I am sure that Roberts has arranged for house elves to have brought your things there by now. The two doors at the end lead to my study and the dining room. Because of the secrecy concerning our identities, we tend to eat in private. However, I am sure you will have plenty of time to make friends in training sessions."

"Thank you," Harry said, scarcely believing it. This man was opening his home to him after knowing him only for a few minutes. Not only that but he had given Harry his own room and promised not to enter it without proper justification! It was a privilege that he'd longed for, ever since he'd seen Ron's room back in first year.

"Come through to the kitchen and I'll make sure you have everything you need and leave you to eat. I suspect you need some time alone to think everything over. I'll make sure you have Dreamless Sleep by your bed should you feel that you want it."

As Harry, or Jason as he was now to be called, went into his room and closed the door behind him, Nemesis looked at the door thoughtfully for a minute. The child was intriguing, very intriguing. A child's face shown for the world to see, power simmering scarcely hidden that was enough to impress even him, the paranoia and reflexes of an Auror twice his age and vivid green eyes, old before their time, which spoke of experiences Nemesis could only guess at.

All this and a name that was chosen seemingly unknowingly from a tale that seemed to have more connection to their current state of affairs than perhaps anyone had foretold. This would be one to watch, most definitely and perhaps a worthy successor.

When Harry woke, he had no way of knowing what time it was from the light in the room - the Department of Mysteries was deep underneath the Ministry of Magic. Lying in bed, he squinted to read his watch: four in the afternoon. He was upright before he realised that it was still running in the future and was probably wrong. He made a note to change it when he had a chance.

He jumped as a house elf appeared in his room. He rubbed his eyes blearily with one hand while groping automatically for his glasses with the other.

"Breakfast for Master Derwent is waiting in the kitchen," came the squeaky voice almost immediately. "Robes are in the wardrobe."

"Uh thank you," Harry managed. That was not the way he had expected to begin his day.

As soon as the house elf had gone again, he swung himself out of bed and, noticing that the clothes he'd left piled on the chair were gone, went over to the wardrobe. He opened it and gasped. Inside seemed to be more clothes than he had ever owned in his life. Hanging freely were conservatively styled robes in predominantly green and black, folded on the shelf above were dress shirts in various colours and he could see a drawer, presumably containing underwear. On the floor of the wardrobe was a line of shoes of various degrees of smartness. It was admittedly impressive that they had managed to concoct all of this in less than twenty-four hours. He supposed that the house elves had been preparing the room fully while he slept. He hoped it had been the house elves, anyway: even five years of sleeping in a dormitory hadn't accustomed him to sleeping through the sounds of other people moving around the room.

Harry selected a plain green robe and white shirt, deciding to err on the side of caution since he had no idea what was appropriate for what he would be doing that day. After dressing quickly, he moved through into the main rooms.

Nemesis was nowhere to be found. Well, that was hardly surprising given that he was such an important man. Harry had once heard someone - probably Ron - say that the Head of the Department of Mysteries had more to say in the running of the country than the Minister himself did! Once he'd eaten, he took the opportunity to explore the rooms. They were exactly as he'd been told: simple, relatively small but practical and homely.

Hearing someone enter the living room behind him, he forced himself to turn slowly. After all, he was sure that the rooms were secure and it would be insufferably rude to act as though he was suspicious of his host.

"Good morning," he said, smiling at Nemesis.

"Morning Jason. Good to see you up so early. Are the clothes suitable? I admit that the house elves had to estimate the correct sizes."

"They're great, thank you. Very… green."

"I'm glad you like them. If there's anything else you need, within reason, you need only ask. I think today we will focus on preparing you for what will come, so there are a few things we have to discuss before we begin."

"Now, you will be entering your sixth year at Hogwarts, correct? Clearly we will have to have you re-sit your OWLs but for now I'd like to know which subjects you had been thinking of continuing."

"I had thought Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfigurations, Potions and one of the sixth year electives, I suppose."

"Tell me, have you ever taken Ancient Runes?"

"No sir."

"Very well, as your fifth subject I would like you to begin Ancient Runes. With extra tutoring through the holidays, I would hope that you will be capable of sitting an OWL in it by the end of your seventh year, if not the full NEWT."

"What can that be used for?" Harry asked curiously. He'd always assumed it was just for historical background for things. Hardly anyone seemed to take a NEWT in Ancient Runes. There wasn't a point, so why waste their time on a hard subject like that? If you were going to go for something to fill up your timetable, Divination was much easier to bluff your way through.

"Runes are the basis for all of our modern magic. If you become a spell crafter, the first step for creating a charm is to work out the component runes. Then you're able to create the wand movement and incantation. It is used in a number of forms of Divination and there are close links with Arithmancy. A lot of the ancient warding spells use runes to anchor it: the Domicilis, the Fidelius and even the Hogwarts wards. A few of the ancient magics are heavily rune based - shamanism, blood magic and so forth. Do you think you can manage?"

"I'll give it a go."

"That's all we can ask. So tell me, have you given any thought to which house you'll be in," Nemesis asked at last. "Presumably you attended Hogwarts before."

"Yes sir. I was a Gryffindor but when I was Sorted, the Hat let me choose between that and Slytherin, so I'd say it's a fairly even chance. I'm not sure I want to be in Gryffindor just now anyway. If there are people I know there, it would probably be harder not to let something slip."

Nemesis fixed him with a penetrating look.

"That is something not many would have considered in your circumstances. Good work. I have a feeling you'll be very useful to us in Slytherin trying to keep as many of those youngsters as possible away from Voldemort. It is fortunate that you selected a pureblood family name. Life as a muggleborn in Slytherin would have been uncomfortable in the extreme."

Harry winced at the thought. Really, it was no wonder that Voldemort had turned out so… strange.

After a few more, seemingly random questions, he followed Nemesis back through the winding corridors to another nondescript door and closed it carefully behind him. He was in a large conference room/ office. Waiting for them were two other men, one of them Mr Roberts. Nemesis took his place at the head of the large polished conference table that took up most of the room with a natural ease.

"Please, take a seat Jason. If possible, I would like you to sign a contract today so you are under our jurisdiction should there be an intelligence leak. Here is the document, take your time to read it through."

Harry sat down and took the rolled up piece of parchment, propping it open with a paperweight obviously intended for the purpose. Thankfully, it wasn't as long as it might have been. Awkwardly, he began to make his way through the formal language. The adults at the table seemed to be discussion some business matters that went straight over his head, so he allowed himself to take his time.

It took him a while but at last he had satisfied himself that there was nothing in the text that might cause him problems later. There were terms stating his minimum salary, living conditions etc and a secrecy clause (well, since he was, it seemed, going to be a spy, he'd more or less expected one). He wished there were someone he could ask about it but there wasn't, so he had to make his own decision.

"Can I have a quill please?" he asked.

"May I," Nemesis corrected, smiling face negating the strictness of the correction as he handed one over.

"How do I sign it, sir? I mean, I thought I wasn't meant to use my real name but would another name actually be valid and..."

"I beg your pardon, I had forgotten," he said, retrieving another sheet from the unknown man. "Linus Derwent has agreed to adopt you into his family, since he himself has no heir and is unlikely to have one of his own body."

Harry blinked a few times, a bit surprised by the lengths they had gone to just to help a fifteen year old boy settle in.

"Uh sir, is he expecting anything of me. I mean, do I have to go and live with him or…"

"Merlin, no! It is a formality more than anything else. Derwent is aware that you are an Unspeakable and entrusts your care to me. You will of course have to be seen in public together once when you come of age so that you can be acknowledged and I presume that you would be expected to behave as befits his station and not disgrace the name."

"I think I can manage that," Harry said, more than a little relieved. If the offer had come attached to some of the old-fashioned traditions that some purebloods seemed to favour - arranged marriage for one - he would have had to decline.

"Sign this using your birth name," Nemesis said quietly. "These other gentlemen will not see it. Then you may sign your contract with your new name, which would then have a legal identity."

Harry took a deep breath and scrawled _'Harry James Potter' _on the dotted line at the bottom of the page. He felt the tingle he had come to associate with magic pass through him. A moment later he jumped back from the table as the scroll jumped into the air, rolled itself and vanished with a crack and a flash of light.

He stood there blinking for a moment then quickly dipped his quill in the ink and signed the second piece of parchment with his new name: Jason Melchior Derwent. Jason.

He turned as he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"That will be stored in the Unspeakable records, with the other contracts. See to it please, Bundimun. I think the restricted area might be appropriate, given that you are still underage. Now, for matters of business. This is your journal. Each agent keeps a journal, keyed both to them and to another agent of their choosing, to record the details of missions and lessons. They act as a useful record for you and, in the rare case that we lose an agent, their journal can provide valuable information that they have collected. You may leave it here for now."

Jason took the bound volume from him and left it on the desk. He would start it later - maybe it would help him sort out his thoughts. In the meantime, he turned to Nemesis for instructions.

"Since we are here, there are a few more documents I should like you to sign: the first is the National Secrets Act. I'm sure you've heard of it, the basic premise is that you won't let slip any training secrets, identities, new developments etc unless given authorisation. With so many people here working in perilous situations, it is critical that you sign it. Thank you.

"Next is for your training, Health and Safety require that you sign this to cancel any responsibility you might later assign to us for injuries related to, ah yes, related to falling objects, accidents in the workplace and tripping over. Magically gained injuries are, of course, included in your original contract and will be taken care of by us."

Jason duly signed the half dozen sheets of parchment that were placed in front of him. He'd heard about the bureaucracy that went on in government. He'd never quite believed the rumours before now. No wonder Ron's dad seemed to work ridiculous hours.

"Now, before we begin anything else, I wanted to talk to you about one of the traditions of Slytherin house. I doubt you have ever been in the Slytherin common room, or noticed it if you have, but on the wall above the fireplace is carved onto a single stone slab a prophecy that was supposedly given by Salazar Slytherin himself. It is an impressive piece of work, appearing to each student to be written in his mother tongue, whether it be Latin, Saxon, Runic or modern English. I cannot recite it to you - that would be impossible because of the enchantments - but I can tell you the essentials.

"Slytherin tells us that there will come a warrior who will be his heir, not in blood but in magic, who will redeem Slytherin house, reunite the warring houses and defeat the false heir and it is said that time will be of no object to him. At his side will be one known only as the dark one - his identity has never been guessed at. And, Slytherin says, he shall be known as the first amongst the members of the house. Primus inter pares, I believe is the phrase that most would quote."

"I bloody hate prophecies," Jason muttered, wondering how it was possible that this one could even possibly apply to him.

"As I'm sure you can tell, Slytherin is foretelling someone who is a member of Slytherin house and shares his magical talents - speaking Parseltongue and Blood Magic - and to whom time is no object. That could be interpreted in many ways but a time traveller could be one of them. He is also meant to defeat the false heir. Now, the Dark Lord is called the heir of Slytherin by many and it is presumed that he would be the false heir given that he doesn't fulfil some of the other criteria. Is there anything you wish to tell me having heard that?"

Jason paused for a moment, considering what to say. No, he wasn't sure if the other prophecy had even been made yet and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to commit to fulfilling this one before he was sure it actually meant him. Besides, he had no idea what blood magic was or whether it was something he could do.

"No sir."

"Sure?" Nemesis asked, looking suspicious and even a little approving. "Very well then. What this means in practical terms is that the leader of Slytherin house, a sort of head boy, is the best dueller in the house and the ones the others look for to set the political and academic stance for the house as a whole. There are other things that count such as proficiency in lessons and family connections but that is the main one. The current leader is a boy called Lucius Malfoy, a seventh year with suspected Death Eater sympathies. If you could defeat him, after some basic training of course, it would establish your status very neatly."

"Lucius Malfoy," Jason said, smirking. He would very much enjoy beating up a teenaged Malfoy senior and he was sure that with a little practice it was well within his capabilities.

Nemesis looked a Jason with approval. As leader of Slytherin, he would have a certain authority that would be invaluable in guiding the younger students away from Voldemort and showing up the older ones who were sympathisers. That he was so willing to take on the task was merely a bonus.

"The first task is to have you look the part. As I'm sure you recall from your reading, there are certain traditions and expected things that you are likely unfamiliar with. As such, I have asked a few other Unspeakables to meet us in one of the briefing rooms."

A short time later, he was seated in a chair, preparing for his first haircut in well over five years. Or rather, he was going to grow his hair out with a potion provided by the resident master and have it cut by him as well.

"The length and cut of your hair can say a lot about your status in society," Nemesis to him as he felt it lengthen until it brushed his shoulders. "Typically, only muggleborns and some younger sons in the less important families will wear their hair short in the muggle fashion. It is generally frowned upon but there are a few notable exceptions - healers for example will cut their hair short for hygiene reasons and grow it out only for formal occasions. If you were underage, you would normally wear your hair bobbed and level with the bottom of your ears and this is the cut we are giving you. Once of age, you are entitled to wear it shoulder length and the head of a family will often choose to wear it longer than that, although some choose not."

"So the shorter it is, the less important you are?"

"Exactly, if you are talking about wizards. Witches will always wear their hair long and the styling and arrangement tell you their status. There are different for example plaiting styles if you are married, betrothed or widowed. However, I think maybe we had better leave that for now. It is often subtle and many raised to it have difficulties identifying on the spot."

"Now, you are suitably attired, though we may need to have a set of dress robes tailored to you in person. When you return to your room, you will find a wand holster has been left on your bed - how it was omitted originally I know not - and you will be taught its use. Now, those spectacles simply will not do. Venom, you do have the potion in stock, do you not?"

"Indeed sir. I felt it might be required so I brought a batch with me."

"Excellent."

"You can correct my eyes sir?" Jason asked. Why had no one mentioned this before?

"Naturally, although the brewing of this potion is an extremely delicate process and it is not often used of children while their eyes are still changing rapidly. It can adapt to slight changes and correct them but not over the course of years. Only the richest of families would have their children's eyes corrected each time they showed signs of change throughout their youth. You are of an age now when they will not be changing rapidly and, given your position, it will be an advantage for you to have perfect vision."

Jason smiled broadly. He had wished for this since returning home with his first pair of glasses aged three. He could scarcely imagine what life would be like without them - much easier, he supposed.

"Now, this is not an immediate miracle cure. It needs to be taken with care over the course of five doses. These are taken once a week at the same time. While you will not need those…hose instruments after the first dose, the change will not be permanent until you take the last. I will issue you with these myself, and owl later ones to you should you have been dispatched on a mission. Remove your spectacles and drink up."

Jason drained the vial in one. It tasted, as might be expected, vile but it was worth it as far as he was concerned. Instantly he clapped his hands over his eyes, tears leaking out. It was painful but he would not cry, he couldn't cry. At last, the agony faded and he cautiously cracked one eye open. The world swam into focus. The other snapped open as he looked around in wonder. It was unbelievable - things seemed so much more vivid than they had.

"Thank you sir," he said the potions master, Venom, and meant every word. Nemesis smiled indulgently.

"Take a look in the mirror, if you like."

Jason spun to look in the mirror, self-consciously smoothing down his robes. To his surprise, he looked remarkably different. His face, well, the absence of glasses alone made a huge difference, the way they distorted his face. His hair fell, waving gently, to cover his earlobes, framing his face in a very different way.

However, it was the robes that really made the transition to pureblood. In school robes it was less apparent but it was very rare to see anyone other than a pureblood in robes outside of classes and yet he acknowledged that they did indeed look good and, with enough clothes on underneath, would no doubt be warmer as well. Jason stuck his chin in the air and puffed out his chest as he had seen Malfoy do at every possible occasion. Yes, he could definitely manage this.


	4. Chapter 4

Jason spent his next three days in the halls underneath the Ministry being taught how to walk, how to talk, how to eat - skills a mere seve year old should know as he was informed by more than one exasperated instructor. Sitting at the lunch table being corrected every time he picked up his fork with the wrong hand or, worse still, picked up the wrong fork entirely had been a frustrating experience but at least the food had been good. Walking up and down an empty corridor doing exercises like balancing a book on his head had been worse.

In between those lessons were the lessons that he thrived on. Each time he carefully put on the silky Unspeakable's robes, feeling the thrill run through his body. He then went with a robed and hooded instructor into one of a seemingly endless number of padded training rooms.

He learned to fall, to roll, to draw his wand from every position imaginable. He picked up bruises by the dozen and aches in places he wasn't aware it was even possible to ache. He despaired of ever landing a blow on his instructor and sometimes, sore and frustrated, he wished that he could.

Two days later, he was even allowed to start casting spells.

By the end of the third day, he was already feeling comfortable with these new drills. There was no longer any hesitation when he flung himself to the ground and the merest twitch of his instructor's arm was enough to send him into a duelling stance, wand drawn.

On the fourth day he entered the room to find four others there, one of them wearing the black instructor's sash. Each of the four was wearing the loose, Demiguise hair robes that were specially woven for the Unspeakables. He had no idea who any of them were. Well, he would guess that two were men, judging from their height and body shape. In the dim lighting, the third was harder to place.

Their instructor stood in front of their loose line, appearing perhaps to be looking them over. Jason hadn't realised before just how much he relied on people's faces to tell him their thoughts - even Snape's moods could be differentiated (well, at least into grumpy and in an all-out rage).

"So, you have been deemed fit enough to attempt the second stage of instruction," the instrurctor said at last. "With me, you will be encouraged to be resourceful and think in new ways. I have no use for your fancy ritualistic duelling - if that's what you're looking for, you can leave now. We'll start by warming up: a free for all, the last man standing wins."

Jason immediately threw himself to the floor, two stunners whistling safely over him to hit the next man in line. It had not taken long to learn that as soon as an instruction like that was given, they were fair targets whether there had been a formal start to the activity or not.

Coming up into a crouch in the corner of the room, he assessed the situation. One of his opponents had been taken out in the initial volley of spells, the remaining two, both physically taller and stronger than he was, were occupied with each other. He wondered whether he had been passed over because of his admittedly short, skinny stature. This was what his training over the past few days, over the past few years had been for. He could feel the adrenaline flowing as his mind went into autopilot.

He had two options now, either wait until this duel finished and take on the winner or interfere and attempt to take them out in short succession, the stronger one first.

Experimentally, he edged towards them. Really, it was obvious that this was a beginners' class. Even he knew not to underestimate an opponent or to turn his back on one - after all, Luna might not look as though she'd harm a fly but her stunner had sent even Ron's lanky form flying across the room.

One of the duellers clearly had a failing shield - more the type to attack than defend.

"Stupefy!" Jason breathed. Saying a spell quietly was just as powerful and much less noticeable. His target dropped easily and he launched himself forward, firing stunners as he went, his opponent, spinning as he tried to loacte his attacker, hastily raised a shield which wavered under a barrage of powerful spells.

Jason ducked as a badly aimed stunner flew past his shoulder, diving forwards to catch the other around his knees and bring him to the ground in a rugby style tackling, grabbing his wand from the floor and rolling clear, still ready to defend himself.

He spun as he heard slow clapping from behind him. The instructor gave him the nod of approval that was the highest show of approval he'd yet received. Jason relaxed, lowering his wand and allowing his face to relax into a grin.

"Petrificus Totalus!" the instructor called. Inwardly, he groaned as he realised what they had all neglected to consider: when the man had said last man standing, he meant last man standing, not last man standing other than himself.

They were left disabled like that for five minutes to consider their mistakes and then revived them. When they were standing again in their row, much more wary now, the lesson continued.

"You, on the end," the instructor said, looking straight at Jason. "What should these others have done."

For the first time, Jason thanked whoever had made them anonymous. Criticising the others in their first class would not make him popular and at least this way they wouldn't be able to bear a grudge once their training finished. He paused for a moment before answering: he'd been working very much on instinct initially.

"As soon as you mentioned the exercise, we should have been ready to start because you won't always give us warning. After that, the other two were just duelling each other. That would have been alright normally because mostly people wouldn't interfere in a one-on-one duel but it gave me the opportunity to prepare my attack while they wore each other down."

"Thank you. However, there is one thing to learn from this. Constant vigilance! In this business, you can trust no one. Enough of this, we're now going to practice the move that should be second nature to all of you by this stage in your training: the roll."

Jason sighed inwardly. Since he'd arrived, learning how to fall and roll had been a fairly significant part of his combat training and he supposed he could see the use of it. However, as he'd been here much less time than the others, he could only assume that they were even more sick of it than he was.

The man standing disillusioned in the corner of the room nodded to himself. His initial judgement had indeed been correct. This boy would take whatever was thrown at him and thrive on the challenges given him. It was strange in such a young person but Jason was progressing rapidly through the standard combat training, as though he had a background in it already. They would have to come up with some more unpredictable exercises for him…

"You really think I'm ready for this?" Jason asked, fidgetting in his chair in front of Nemesis's desk. He'd been training 14 hours a day for the past three weeks and, while he could feel the improvements every time he raised his wand and every time he caught himself before he said something Muggle-sounding, he kept becoming aware of how much more he had to work on. He'd watched Nemesis duel once in a demonstration for some of the trainees and had been awed by the sight. Yes, the man was aging but he was no less flexible and much wilier because of it.

"I think the appropriate question is whether you believe you are ready. There is only so much you can learn from us, the rest is gained from actual experience. We have much to teach you about life as an Unspeakable but that won't necessarily be important this time - there will be other chances to teach it to you. Do you honestly think that you can pull of this mission?"

Jason swallowed. He'd have to step out into the real world at some point.

"Yes, yes I think so sir."

"Then you will," Nemesis said with a rare smile. "I could have asked no more of you. Tomorrow you will go to Hogwarts and be a child again and that will teach you a different set of lessons from anything I could dream up. Girls, for one thing." Then he paused as if considering something. "Or boys, as the case may be."

"I've been to school before, sir." Okay, so it would be a bit different from the Hogwarts that he remembered. There would be things that hadn't been invented yet, different people, different teachers, but it was just school, wasn't it? If anything it would be easier than before, with no one out to kill him.

"Not as a Slytherin, you haven't," Nemesis said. The amused quirk of his mouth was slightly worrying. "I think you'll enjoy it. Now, off to bed with you, you'll have an early start if we're to finish the preparations in time to get you to Hogwarts by the evening."

The next evening, after hours of preparation, he sat in Dumbledore's office, his 'tutor' - in actuality another agent - beside him. After hours of work in both pureblood society and duelling, he had finally been deemed adequately prepared for life at Hogwarts. Ensuring his admission would be his first test.

The training he had done so far had certainly been a revelation. He had never been quite aware of how much of wizard culture had passed him by without his even noticing its existence, let alone any significance. Knowing what he now did, he understood to a certain extent why some wizards believed Muggleborns to have a negative effect on the community. However, to him at least, it seemed blindingly obvious that the easiest solution would be merely to induct them properly age eleven, teaching them the things that their classmates took for granted and making sure they knew that they could always ask if there was anything they were unsure about. Still, maybe they had something similar in place and, being Harry Potter and a half blood, it had been assumed he had no need of the lessons. Given his life, he wouldn't be surprised.

He blinked a couple of times to stop himself wool gathering and took the opportunity to get a good look around the office while Dumbledore finished reading Jason's documentation - mostly expertly faked. It seemed to have scarcely changed between now and the future: the myriad of silver instruments still held pride of place, the bookshelves were as heaving as ever and Fawkes sat proudly on his perch. When he entered the room, he had inclined his head to the phoenix as well as the man: while classified as beasts and not beings, phoenixes were acknowledged to be extremely intelligent and powerful and most people decided to err on the side of caution. Besides, he really didn't want to alienate Fawkes now and have his younger self not saved by him from a basilisk later.

Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing stare and Jason met his gaze evenly, mentally closing off his mind as best he could - while not a master at Occlumency, he had managed to pick up the basics. The Headmaster was completely unaware of the youth's employment or nature and Jason saw no reason to enlighten him.

"So, you would be Mr Derwent?" he said at last. Jason mentally steeled himself for the forthcoming conversation.

"Yes, Headmaster. The gentleman accompanying me is my tutor, Mr Cockcroft. I assume you have received my father's letter."

It was a rhetorical question. Of course, the Headmaster had received the letter that Nemesis had given Melchior Derwent to copy out and send. In playing the part of the pureblood heir, he had to appear completely confident. Aged fifteen, he would indeed be expected to be able to manage an interview like this alone, the 'tutor' was along as much as bodyguard as guardian.

"I have. I must say that it is very unusual for any student to enter Hogwarts at such an advanced age. Might I enquire as to the reason?"

"Mr Cockcroft has reached an age at which he wishes to retire and spend time with his grandchildren. Given my age, my father decided that instead of engaging a new tutor, I would benefit more from the society at Hogwarts and, of course, lessons from masters in their fields."

"That seems fair enough," Dumbledore said, though he still seemed slightly wary. Actually, since Jason was supposedly a pureblood underage youth he was actually legally entitled to a place at Hogwarts, so this interview was more to satisfy Dumbledore's curiosity than it was for anything else. He was even wearing the uniform already.

"I must apologise for missing the beginning of the term," Jason added hastily, acting the part of a young pureblood who was not quite as confident as he made himself out to be. "I fell ill with the dragonpox at the end of August and didn't want to begin with any health problems. I don't think you'll find me behind in the work."

"Very well then."

"Thank you sir. Mr Cockcroft, I am sure you can leave me safely here now I am out of your care. Enjoy your retirement."

Jason watched as the other man left with a slight bow then returned his gaze to Dumbledore

"So, here at Hogwarts, each student resides in one of four houses, each named after one of the Founders of the school. They are Gryffindor, where they are bold, Slytherin for the cunning, Ravenclaw for those who love learning and Hufflepuff for the loyal. As you missed the Sorting ceremony, I will sort you now."

Jason watched as he walked over to retrieve the battered old hat from its place on a high shelf.

"Please place the hat on your head," Dumbledore instructed. Really, he wasn't an eleven-year-old any more? What else would he be expected to do with the hat?

He placed it on his head, noting with interest that it no longer fell to cover his eyes.

__

:Well, well, well. What have we here? A time-traveller - and fear not, I am bound not to reveal your secrets. So, you are undeniably intelligent but perhaps not as inclined to studying hard as you might be. Certainly there is no lack of courage however I see it is, at least now, well tempered by common sense. However, I find you not so rash as most your age. And ambitious too I see… No, don't deny it. A thirst to prove yourself and achieve what you were destined is no shameful thing and will help you in your life. I think I know where you belong now: " SLYTHERIN!"

Jason removed the hat from his head, not at all surprised except perhaps that it had not even seemed to consider Gryffindor that seriously. Dumbledore seemed equally calm: his new student was not of much concern to him, being from a traditionally neutral family of only moderate magical ability. Perhaps he would even temper the dark leanings of Slytherin house.

"Well, there is our answer," Dumbledore said at last. "I will escort you down to the Slytherin common room myself and request that a prefect show you our ways until you are settled."

"Thank you, sir."

"It is no bother. I noticed that your father has requested that you take private lessons in Ancient Runes once a week."

"Yes. My tutor had never studied it himself and my father believes that it is an important part of our heritage and opens a number of very highly regarded careers. I have thought of maybe becoming a spell-crafter but that is only an idea."

"You need not have decided your career quite yet," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "You do have another two years left of school, after all. Now, the common room is located behind this stone slab. If you look closely, you will see the runespoor carved on it. It will open to the correct password, which at present is 'Serpents' Children'."

The slab swung inwards and Jason followed Dumbledore through the hole into the green and grey common room. It was as gloomy as he remembered and yet there now seemed to be something calming about it, something more conductive to study than the violent red gold of the Gryffindor tower.

"Mr Snape!" Dumbledore called, catching sight of a boy sitting, poring over his books in a corner. He looked up with a start and rose to come over.

Jason looked him over carefully. Dressed in black school robes, he looked surprisingly young, though he knew that Snape could easily be over a year older than him, especially if he had an early birthday. There were times when Jason really didn't feel fifteen. Snape's hair was cut so it brushed his shoulders - presumably he'd just turned seventeen - and was a soft black and not at all greasy. Well, to be fair he could probably blame a lot of the grease on brewing potions and stress. As for his nose, well, it was crooked but showed some faint marks which suggested that it had recently been broken in a fistfight. Pinned to the front of his robes was a green prefect pin.

"May I help you, Headmaster?"

"Ah, Mr Snape. This is Jason Derwent, a new student entering your year. He may choose which of the sixth year dormitories he sleeps in and will receive his timetable tomorrow morning at breakfast. Please, show him around the house."

"Yes Headmaster," the young Snape said with the exact amount of deference required, no more. "Come along Derwent, the house elves will bring your things up later."

"Thank you for your help," Jason said, with the slight bow he had been told was appropriate between equals. "I'm pleased to meet you."

Snape looked mildly surprised but bowed in return.

"Severus Snape, I'm one of the two sixth year Slytherin prefects. The boys dormitories are behind this portrait, which has the same password as the common room. There are now five boys in our year - you may choose whether to share a room with me or the other three."

"I'll share with you, if you don't mind."

Again, Snape looked surprised. Jason wondered if he was missing something important that he was supposed to have picked up on. The other boy's bearing and status as a prefect indicated that he was respected by the teachers and the way he'd left his books out in the common room showed he didn't expect to be pranked, so why did he seem to expect to be ostracised? It had been a fairly simple decision for him to make, given his preference for as much privacy as possible. Granted, Snape had been something of a bastard as a teacher but he would rather share with him than Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, if they were in his year, or worse Lucius Malfoy.

A moment later, Snape stopped abruptly.

"Look Derwent, you obviously don't know I'm a half-blood. Are you sure you want to share a room with me?"

Ah, so that was it. He supposed that in Slytherin it would make a difference, though no one in Gryffindor had ever really mentioned it. He thought about his answer carefully before opening his mouth - he didn't want to let anything slip about he himself being a half-blood, couldn't in fact, and he didn't want to say anything that might lead to him being labelled as one of 'Dumbledore's men'.

"My family isn't so conservative as some of the others," he managed at last. "You're clearly intelligent and I'll have more space with just two of us sharing than four."

"I'm not doing your homework for you, either," Snape snapped, still on the defensive.

Jason sighed. Really, was Snape ever going to be easy to live with.

"I wasn't expecting you to."

A look at Snape showed that the other boy was clearly dubious but he at least continued down the long corridor, stopping before a portrait of a proud looking aristocrat.

"The password is Paracelsus," he said quietly and led him into a room that contained two beds and had a desk each, something Jason had never seen in Gryffindor. "Good, the house elves have already been. I suppose Dumbledore assumed you would be in here. Your bed is the one by the door and obviously your desk is the empty one. You may use whatever storage space I am not already using."

"Fair enough."

"You will find the bathroom at the end of the corridor behind an oak door. There isn't a password. If you need to lock the door, use your wand. If you will excuse me, I have work to do."

He excused himself quickly and left the room. Jason sighed. This was hardly the friendly welcome he had received in Gryffindor as a first year but then he was of an age to be in contention in the house hierarchy and a complete unknown. He would unpack his things later but now he took the opportunity to look around the room.

It was very tidy. That was his overwhelming impression. Snape's textbooks were neatly shelved on a bookcase by the desk and there was nothing lying around on the floor. He would have to make an effort himself or he'd end up feeling very guilty about the mess he made. It was also very impersonal - there were no posters up on the wall or much of anything that would stamp ownership on the room. He could just see one photograph that was propped up on the desk.

It showed Snape and a girl of about their age. She was shorter than Snape was but only by a couple of inches. No one that Jason recognised, she had black hair and was wearing Ravenclaw house robes. He would have to watch out for her and see if he could find out who she was. She did look a bit like Snape but he didn't think the man had a sister, or at least, no one had ever mentioned her.

This young Snape was certainly intriguing. He was polite, if a little defensive and seemed to be confident despite the prejudice that clearly existed against him. The fact that he left his books confidently in plain sight in the common room suggested that he didn't expect them to be taken or wrecked in his absence. That, according to what Jason had learned, implied that either his wizard relatives were extremely influential or he was very highly placed in the house hierarchy. It would be interesting to find out which it was.

He read for a little and then went to bed, setting a quick alarm charm restricted to his bed to wake him first thing. He wanted to be up early in the morning to begin disrupting Lucius Malfoy's reign as publicly as possible.

It was going to be hard. He was going to make a lot of enemies and probably not many friends but this was what he had to do. It was going to help the Unspeakables, who had given him a home, and it was going to help him when he came to take down Voldemort, so he would make sure that he succeeded. He had to.


	5. Chapter 5

When Jason was woken by the insistent bleeping of his alarm, he rubbed his eyes furiously. He'd been getting up relatively early over the past few weeks but never at a time quite this antisocial. A quick glance - and how great was it to be able to do that without glasses - and he saw that the other boy was still asleep, curled up tightly with his face looking the opposite way. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, padding across the cold stone floor.

He would have to wear school uniform of course. Still, he would see what he could do. A green dress shirt under them would be sufficient to proclaim his allegiance to the house and thankfully wasn't forbidden. Dress shoes might not seem important but they could make a small but significant difference depending on how the scenario panned out. On top of that, he chose a splendid black velvet winter cloak fastened with a silver broach in the shape of a runespoor - his new family's crest. All in all, once he had combed his hair to neatnes, he looked, though he did say it himself, quite intimidating. He would probably need all of it.

Ready to go, he slipped out of the dormitory and into the maze of dungeon corridors. Still, the common room was thankfully in relatively familiar territory quite near the potions classroom so he found it simple enough to reach the Great Hall. He could always claim to have an excellent memory should anyone query his knowing the route.

Entering the Great Hall, Jason surveyed it. He was so early that he had plenty of time before anyone was likely to arrive. It was, naturally, completely empty at this time of the morning and, as promised, there was a single chair at the end of the Slytherin table furthest from the staff. He took a deep breath, strode down the length of the hall and slipped for the first time into a seat at the Slytherin table.

According to Nemesis's informant, Lucius Malfoy was habitually a late riser and usually ate breakfast at eight fifteen in time for lessons beginning at half past. Most of the others were more punctual and it was those that Jason was intending to shock first.

The first few - first and second years mostly - came in at half past seven and took their seats at the far end of the table without even seeming to notice him. Jason supposed that they were considered too lowly for it even to be worthwhile to look up his end of the table and that time in the morning. As soon as this was sorted he himself would be very glad to get another hour of sleep. They were followed closely by a haggard looking older boy, perhaps a fifth year, who stopped half way down the table, blinked a few times and took his place a third of the way down. Interesting, he wasn't even being challenged, despite being completely new and sitting in the place symbolising the most powerful position in the house. Was Lucius that incompetent or did the boy merely assume that he had missed something and didn't dare try and confirm it?

He held his ground with hard-won composure, pretending that he was just anyone, sitting in any seat. As he waited there, very slowly nibbling through his toast, he received a number of curious looks from the other houses, although he hadn't yet caught sight of the five that he was really looking to spot.

When Professor Dumbledore came in, he took his seat and fixed Jason with a piercing stare. Jason met his eyes calmly, with an open-looking smile on his face that he took care did not become a smirk. He wanted to be thought of as a neutral in the war with Voldemort, needed to be in fact, and aggravating the man too much would not help him there.

"Sorry, may I introduce myself," said a quiet voice from his elbow. Jason started, jumping up from his seat. The girl must have come in by the other doors. "Artemis Snape, Ravenclaw sixth year."

"Jason Derwent, sixth year," Jason said. Well, it seemed that Snape did indeed have a sister, and a very pretty one too. Well, who would have guessed?

"A pleasure. I felt I ought to ask whether you knew the significance of that seat. None of Ithem/I will tell you and . . . "

"I know exactly what I'm doing, Miss Snape," Jason said with a smile. He knew what he was doing, he had been instructed in it and he was damn well going to keep doing it, "but thank you for the warning. Do you have a brother in my year?"

"Yes, Severus. Do you know him?"

"I'm sharing a dormitory with him. I think he might be a bit annoyed not to have his own room any more."

Her eyes widened slightly. Apparently she was all too aware of the prejudice against her brother in Slytherin and he had instantly risen in her estimation.

"I'm glad he has company at last," was all she said. "Are you taking Charms?"

"Yes."

"I will see you there then. It was nice meeting you. Could you tell my brother that I have the book he was looking for? It looks like he's overslept."

"Certainly."

With a smile, Artemis Snape wandered back over to her own table and Jason sank back into his seat. That had been singularly unnerving. How in Merlin's name did Snape have a twin sister that he'd never heard about? The very thought itself was weird, let alone the implications. Weirder still was that she had been very calm, very pleasant to talk to.

The Slytherin table was by now mostly full, only the spaces at the top end being empty. Apparently most of the senior members of the house were Lucius's close friends and allies and would come down with him, which meant that they would probably be arriving just about… then. Jason sighed, it appeared that poor Severus would miss all of the action.

Lucius Malfoy paused, framed in the doorway of the Great Hall, hair tossed back over his shoulders for maximum effect and his minions following him. He took long, even strides towards his seat in the corner of the room. A couple of metres past the doorway, he came to a sudden halt, causing a pile-up of lesser Slytherins behind him as they fell over themselves not to plough him down.

Jason met his eyes calmly, nodded politely and stood up. Facing his scowling rival, he gave a slight bow and strolled down towards the staff table.

One by one, their eyes were fixed on him as he came closer and closer to them. They knew exactly what he had done by taking that seat and he had suddenly gone from a new student who may or may not behind to one who could potential be a power among the students. He would require watching.

"Good morning Headmaster, Professors," Jason said politely.

"And to you, Mr Derwent," Dumbledore said, peering at him over his spectacles with twinkling eyes. Jason ignored the smile on his face - he'd been on the end of that one far too many times to be dissuaded by it. "You have come for your timetable, I presume. I have taken the liberty of including a map with it, perhaps fortunate as Mr Snape doesn't seem to have arrived yet."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing to address the staff as a whole.

"Professors, this is Jason Derwent, our newest member of Slytherin House. I believe we must wait to complete introductions until your classes, however I would like you to make the acquaintance of Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, and Professor Slughorn, who is head of Slytherin now."

"A pleasure to meet you, Professors," Jason said, his smile completely genuine as he looked at his former (or should it be future) Head of House.

McGonagall was reassuringly similar, slim in her green robes and hair pinned up in the same style as he was accustomed to. From her stern gaze, he imagined that her teaching would be the same as ever also. He tore his eyes away from her presence, comforting in a suddenly unfamiliar world, to look at his new Head of House.

Professor Slughorn was an entirely different matter. He somehow didn't fit the image of Slytherin Head of House - that said, most people would look ineffective compared to the sinister adult Snape. That said, he didn't even look much like a responsible teacher either. He was an elderly man and enormously fat with a huge, walrus-like moustache that appeared to have crumbs from his breakfast stuck in it. Looking down the table, Jason could only guess that he was either going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts or Potions. Most of the other teachers were either still teaching in Jason's own time or, like the elderly man at the end of the table feeding a little furry creature, clearly not candidates for those posts. That said, the fact that Dumbledore hadn't bothered to introduce them last night could say something about his opinion of the man.

"Good to see you in Slytherin, Derwent. If you feel the need to see me, one of your housemates will be able to direct you to my office."

"Thank you sir," Jason managed. Wasn't the man even going to check that he'd been settled in a dormitory, with the correct uniform and knowing the school and house rules? Apparently not. He excused himself and slipped out of side door of the hall, avoiding having to walk past Malfoy. This was neither the time nor place for a confrontation of that kind.

He tucked his map and timetable into the inside pocket of his robes and made his way through the winding corridors towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. There was no way he'd need to use a map. Besides, those issued to the first years were notoriously unreliable and being late on his first day was not the sort of impression that he wanted to make.

"I'm starting to think you have more guts than brains, Derwent," Snape said, sliding into the seat next to him in the Defence classroom.

"What do you mean?"

"Challenging Malfoy on your first day here…" Jason wasn't sure if the disbelieving note in Snape's voice was because he was impressed or disgusted.

"Second day," he said, unable to resist the quip. "If you're being precise."

Snape snarled at him. Jason's grin didn't falter.

"Either way, what were you thinking? Do you know who he is?"

"That I can beat him. That this way he doesn't have time to find out what I can do beforehand. That it would be nice for Lucius Malfoy, Prince of Slything, to be taken down a few pegs."

"You equally have no time to find out about him," Snape pointed out. He was looking singularly unimpressed now. The first seeds of doubt began to enter Jason's mind. After all, he knew that Snape would in the future be a very accomplished dueller himself. For Snape to be admitting to a certain respect for Malfoy's skills… How good was he then?

"Look Snape, are you with me or against me?"

There was a long pause. Jason fought the urge to squirm under the dark stare.

"The lesson's about to start," he said at last. "I'll decide by the end of it."

The classroom was filling up now. DADA had always been one of the most popular NEWT electives and it seemed that the current war with Voldemort had only heightened this trend. In NEWT classes, all four houses were mixed in together - in the less popular subjects this was the only way to ensure a full class - and Jason could see all of the different house crests represented.

"Those four at the front," Snape murmured from beside him. "See them? You're looking at the power base of Gryffindor. The one with glasses, that's Potter. He's Quidditch Captain, top of most of his classes. Next to him is Black. He's much less predictable than Potter, loses his temper quite easily. He's an excellent dueller, his younger brother is in Slytherin and his cousin is engaged to Malfoy. Even if they aren't on speaking terms, his family has influence. The two across from them are Lupin and Pettigrew. Lupin's more dangerous than he looks, despite being a halfblood - he has brains and he's a Prefect, the teachers trust him. Pettigrew's nothing special but he goes running to Potter if you even look at him the wrong way."

Jason looked at them curiously, grateful to Snape for pointing them out, though for different reasons than Snape might have imagined. It seemed a little strange to be warning him when they weren't yet friends or even allies but that said, the Gryffindor-Slytherin enmity was probably worth giving the new kid information that might prove critical in the manoeuvring that went on in Slytherin House.

Shortly after that, the clock hanging at the back of the room chimed and the lesson began. In many ways he was glad that this was his first class - while he was coming in the middle of the term, at least he was beginning in a subject he was reasonably good at.

"As many of you have noticed, we have a new addition to our class today," the professor began. It wasn't Professor Slughorn - the man must be taking Potions - but instead a young man with a prominent scar cutting across his cheek. Could he be an ex-Auror? "Mr Derwent, if you would raise your hand for a moment? Welcome to our class. At present, we are completing a section on identifying the effects of curses and countering them so if you would open your textbooks to page seventy five, we will begin the lesson."

A few minutes later, while the class was reading the relevant chapter carefully, the teacher came over to Jason's desk.

"A Slytherin, I see," he commented, frowning slightly. "You will find, Derwent, that my class is going to be an intensive one now that you have reached NEWT level. The Dark Arts are not a historic subject - one of an Auror's main tasks is apprehending Dark Wizards - and I aim to prepare you for whatever you might encounter after you leave school. This class is not a place for the squeamish. If you fail a part of the course, I can assure you that the punishment work will not be pleasant."

"I won't fail, sir," Jason said, looking the professor straight in the eyes. Inwardly he was cursing himself: didn't he have any self-control? This was exactly what he'd done to Umbridge the previous year. Luckily, the professor didn't continue to provoke him further, just fixed a steady stare on him before striding back to the front of the room.

Jason glanced around to see that the tense exchange had been watched by most of the room. The Gryffindors were giving him suspicious stares: was this what life was like as a Slytherin? Constant suspicion and hatred? The Slytherins, well, they were looking more curious than anything else. Clearly his earlier statement had provoked them all enough that they were now trying to collect enough information about him to know whether he would actually be an influential member of the house.

As the teacher turned to fix a pointed stare on his class, they turned back to their work with only a couple of exceptions: the four Gryffindors seated right under his nose were glancing back at him curiously. When Jason at last felt that he could take his attention away from the others in the room, he turned to his reading. This wasn't something he'd ever studied before - he'd always focussed either on the easier subjects like dark creatures, spell theory or the more practical aspect of duelling.

Still feeling eyes on him, Jason turned his head to look Snape directly in his eyes. The dark eyes, almost unreadable, met his gaze. The other boy was now looking interested. Maybe a confrontation like that hadn't been such a Slytherin way of dealing with the teacher as he'd been expecting. James sighed inwardly. Clearly he had a lot to learn about being Slytherin.

Jason jerked his head suddenly to one side, sensing magic approaching, allowing a hex to pass safely over his shoulder. From the commotion, it had hit someone on the other side of the room. Following the stares, Jason turned to see Sirius Black and James Potter muttering at each other. Well, that was one way to meet the Gryffindors. It seemed he'd made an impression.

At the end of the lesson, Snape stopped him as he was about to leave the room.

"Upper Common Room, six o'clock tonight."

Jason blinked. What did the common room have to do with anything?

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Of course, you're new," Snape said and sighed. "That means that you're going to duel with me to win my support. If you can defeat me, you stand a fair chance at Malfoy. If you do manage to, well, anything would be better than another year of him."

Well, that was progress. Snape was clearly highly ranking and duelling him first would give him an idea about what passed as acceptable in one of these duels. Of course, he'd been properly briefed about it back with the Unspeakables but it wasn't quite the same as being there yourself. He remembered Sirius telling him that Snape had known more curses as a first year than most seventh years and had immediately assumed - probably correctly - that they were quite nasty ones.

Smiling, he shook himself. He was actually looking forward to this duel instead of concentrating on what it could mean. The buzz he was getting was like the anticipation before a Quidditch match, a rush of adrenaline that he loved feeling: presumably his Gryffindor side showing itself.


	6. Chapter 6

Six o'clock seemed to take forever to come around. Not only did Snape seem to have vanished but the other Slytherins were also stepping around him warily, as if being careful not to take sides. When lessons were finally over, he escaped the crowds and holed up in their room.

Even deciding what to wear seemed to take more thought than normal. After all, he couldn't wear the Unspeakable robes that were the best duelling outfit that he owned, or the Muggle tracksuit that gave him the most flexibility. He almost wished he could wear the Muggle clothes and forget about the mission - the look on Malfoy's face might just be worth it. In the end, he decided to wear a set of formal duelling robes, as much because they would billow less than his day-to-day robes as anything else.

At five minutes to six, he walked down into the communal area to look for someone who would show him where to go. To his surprise, especially given the time of day, the common room was almost empty. Normally at this time there would be a flood of people just back from classes, the first years would have got out the gobstones and the only thing keeping the noise down would be the senior students working feverishly at the desks pushed against one wall. Approaching a younger girl working at a desk, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Er sorry but could you tell me where the Upper Common Room is?" he asked. She turned to look at him.

"You're Derwent, the new sixth year?" she asked. Slytherins were strange: he'd never have dared speak to a sixth year with that kind of measuring tone when he was a first year. "Go through the portrait of Morgana - same password as for here - and up the stairs."

"Thank you."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"Good luck tonight, you'll need it against Snape. He may be a half-blood but he's an amazing dueller, he wouldn't be second in the house if he wasn't."

Second ranked in the house? Well, that was a little higher than Jason would have guessed. Still, it was too late to renegotiate now. He managed to smile at the girl, then looked around for the portrait. Following her directions, he quickly discovered where the other Slytherins were.

Coming through the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs, Jason looked for the first time at the traditional centre of Hogwarts politics, the Upper Common Room. It was maybe three times as large as the Slytherin Common Room, the roof arching far above them. Down the centre ran a traditional style duelling platform, the sides trimmed in dark green velvet. Around it, seated on wooden chairs that he would guess had been arranged specifically to watch the duel, were gathered what seemed like all of Slytherin House and, more surprisingly, a significant proportion of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Snape was already standing at the far end of the platform with a few younger boys clustered around him, holding his outer robes and schoolbag. Pausing a moment to gather his courage, Jason climbed the four steps up to the platform and began stretching a little self-consciously. Clearly, the others in the house were taking this duel very seriously. He had to admit that had he known how highly placed Snape was he might not have rushed into this so quickly. That Snape was even considering throwing his support behind him was quite the compliment.

After what seemed like hours, he saw that Snape was walking down towards him. Hurriedly, trying to look completely confident, he straightened and met him in the middle.

"Are you ready?" Snape asked. Jason couldn't help noticing that he seemed totally calm about the whole thing. Well, if you'd been duelling here for five years already, maybe you would be used to the atmosphere and the spectators.

"Yes. Shall we start?"

"Very well. You know the terms?"

"Nothing that will permanently injure and nothing illegal but anything else is fair game."

"Close enough," Snape said, mouth twitched up a little. Just as suddenly, his face was serious again as he spoke the formal words to start the duel. "May your magic guide you."

"It'll need to," Jason heard someone mutter from nearby. A few others snickered. He felt his magic starting to rise up and clenched his teeth as he struggled to keep it under complete control. Blowing his top would most definitely come across as 'Gryffindor' and he had to stop it from happening.

"And may yours guide you," he managed to finish, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.

Abruptly they spun on their heels and retreated ten paces as Lucius Malfoy climbed onto the centre of the stage to start the duel, as was traditional for the leader of the

house.

"Bow to your opponent," he drawled, sounding bored about the whole experience. They bent their backs slightly, eyes kept carefully on their opponent. In Gryffindor he would have trusted them not to hex him while distracted but here… No here, it was a game played with different rules.

Grimly, Jason settled into his stance. Snape was using the same one as he had used in that memorable single meeting of the Duelling Club in his second year.

"On the count of three. One… two… three!" Malfoy called and flung himself from the platform as two hexes whistled through the place where he'd been.

Oh yes, Snape was indeed fast, Jason thought as he swayed out of the way of a nasty looking streak of magic. Hell, half the spells the other boy were using he'd never even heard of and if nothing else, Jason had experience behind him!

It was a strange thing, a formal duel like this. At any rate, that's what he'd been told. As well as trying to defeat your opponent, he had to show his superiority as well, not just take him down with a lucky shot. It wasn't easy to remember that with an opponent as good as this.

"Protego!" he yelled again. Suddenly the barrage of spells seemed to slow as they paused to reassess the other. Snape's eyes were narrowed now. Apparently, he hadn't considered that he'd be struggling with this duel. Suddenly, Jason remembered the keys swarming at him back in his first year and conjured a flock of small birds.

"Oppugno!"

Snape's eyes widened dramatically and he frantically began to erect a shield around himself. Seeing Snape occupied, a glow of triumph spread through him as he sent hex after hex at him.

"Expelliarmus!" he called at last and Snape's shield fell, sending him flying backwards to land with a thud at the other end of the platform. Immediately, he vanished the birds he'd conjured - it wouldn't have been fair to leave them after he'd been defeated.

"Duel's over," Lucius Malfoy announced, looking carefully at them. "Derwent wins."

The hushed silence of the room suddenly vanished as a buzz of conversation began. Jason smiled - he'd managed to unsettle them at any rate. Quickly he strode down the platform to crouch by Snape.

"You okay?" he asked. Snape glared at him.

"I'm fine. Congratulations," he added grudgingly.

"Here's your wand back."

Jason passed the black wand to him and Snape seemed to relax enough to accept his hand up. They stood there staring at each other for a moment. It was impossible to tell what Snape was thinking - the dark eyes were as fathomless as ever.

Then Snape brought his wand up and slashed across his palm with it as if it were a knife. To Jason's surprise, a line of blood welled up where it passed. He clasped Jason's unresisting hand and held his gaze.

"I Severus Adrian Snape pledge my allegiance to Jason Melchior Derwent and seal the pledge with my blood, that I will follow and protect him whenever he bids me."

A glow of light started to encircle their hands. Those still watching the scene unfolding gasped. Jason froze, heart pounding, not sure what he should do. That said, it was considered dangerous to leave an blood oath unacknowledged and Snape must be sure if he was offering blood oath. He would simply have to do what he could to limit the impact, choose one of the less demeaning declarations and try to keep Snape as a friend.

"I Jason Melchior Derwent accept this oath and pledge in return to protect and aid Severus Aidan Snape in his endeavours."

With that, the glow became blinding and he had to shut his eyes against the glare. Their hands meanwhile, gripped each other with unaccustomed ease.

There were a few long seconds of complete harmony between them, Jason could feel his magic mingling with Snape's, enfolding them both and accepting him. Then, as the effect faded, they drew apart, carefully avoiding each other's eyes. Snape bowed awkwardly, his face a furious shade of scarlet, and strode off to collect his robes.

Jason watched him for a moment, then fled through the agitated crowd into the relative calm of Slytherin territory. He wasn't sure what had prompted that and he didn't know what he was going to do about it now. At any rate, he needed advice and fast. Shutting himself in their dorm room, hoping that Snape would be avoiding him, he took out one of the rare communication mirrors kept by the Department of Mysteries for cases such as his.

"Master Nemesis," he said urgently, "Are you there?"

There was a pause and the mirror shimmered to display the concerned face of his mentor.

"Jason, what's happened? I wasn't expecting a report this soon."

"Well, I started to make my move as we'd agreed and decided to try and make an ally of the guy I'm sharing a room with, Snape. He agreed to back me if I defeated him in a duel."

"That sounds the normal procedure. Snape, would that be the half blood boy who caused the scandal seventeen years or so back?"

"I guess so. It's Severus, Severus Snape. He has a sister in Ravenclaw. Anyway, I don't think he expected me to win but I did, just now. A moment later, he was pledging blood oath to me! What in Merlin's name am I supposed to do now? I can't tell him what's going on but it could be dangerous not to and I don't even know why he did it and . . ."

"You did accept the oath, didn't you?" Nemesis asked sharply. Jason nodded, still somewhat bewildered. "Well, that's one side sorted. The consequences if you hadn't might have been unimaginable. As to why: your friend Snape isn't in with Malfoy's crowd, is he?"

"No, they seem to be rivals. At least, he wouldn't be second in the house if he was one

of his allies, would he?"

"And he's a Slytherin half blood with a certain amount of talent. My guess would be that he's trying to avoid becoming a Death Eater. Given his family and status in Slytherin, it's something he'd be expected to do. By giving blood oath to someone else, he must be hoping that it will enable you to prevent him being forced to take the Mark."

"But why me? Why not Dumbledore or someone from one of the Light families? And why would he have to become a Death Eater - I thought they didn't want halfbloods?"

"The Death Eaters will take anyone with sufficient power, money or talent. The Snape boy probably lies in the third category. That said, he would always be treated as a second class citizen, as it were. He'd never be given any power, any responsibility. The Derwent family is hardly Dark - they have always preferred fence-sitting, as it were. As such, it is less of a betrayal of his family to side with you and his grandfather is less likely to disown him. You also probably appear naïve enough that he could more or less do what he wanted anyway but still magically powerful enough to deny at least Lucius Malfoy if not the Dark Lord himself."

"So he's just sworn his life away so he doesn't have to become a Death Eater?"

"You forget that if he became a Death Eater he'd have to swear his life anyway: this is the lesser of two evils, not a dream come true."

"What shall I do about it? I can hardly tell McGonagall that I made him do my homework for me, or something?"

"I would recommend that you continue exactly as you have been. Treat him as a friend or an ally and trust him to advise you. After all, this manoevering is something he's grown up with. Remember also that you have responsibilities towards him as well. You should defend him from magical and verbal attacks. Make sure people know that you're taking your side of the oath seriously. That will encourage the younger Slytherins to trust you as well, since they will want a leader who will stand up for them."

Jason nodded, beginning to calm down. "I think I can do that."

That didn't stop him wanting to go back and hex Snape senseless for rushing him into something that important.

When Jason eventually descended to the Common Room again, mind considerably - though not completely - calmed by the logical explanation given by his mentor, he found himself the centre of attention once more. It was almost like being Harry Potter again, he noted wryly: as soon as he had entered the room, all eyes had been on him. He would be will to bet that people were almost falling over themselves to be introduced to him. First to approach him though, all the others drawing back from him, was Lucius Malfoy.

"Jason Derwent," he said eventually, looking him up and down. It really wasn't fair that Malfoy was half a head taller than Jason and could look down his nose at him with ease. "Of the Derwents of Norfolk?"

"That's right. And you are Lucius Malfoy, correct?"

The other boy didn't even grace that with an answer.

"Congratulations on your success. You could be a valuable ally."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Snape moving into position at his shoulder with great relief.

"He's trying to recruit you to his faction," Snape murmured in his ear. "Congratulations: that means he feels threatened by you. Don't lose that advantage."

"I could," Jason said at last. "But I'm not sure that the beliefs of my family align with those of yours. The Derwent's stand independent, as always."

"Naturally. Even so, should you require any… assistance, I have the contacts you might need."

"I think I can find suitable allies on my own, thanks," Jason said, wondering if the Malfoys had anything on their minds other than grovelling in front of Voldemort and making the 'right' kind of friends. "I will see you at supper tonight?"

"Certainly," Malfoy said, inclined his head and moved over to his seat by the fire. Jason turned with some trepidation to face the boy who had just pledged him his life.

"Snape."

"Derwent. That was well done."

"Thank you. I think maybe we need to talk sometime, after supper maybe?"

"If you wish. Meanwhile there are some people you should meet."

"Who?"

"Those who have already allied with me. Most of them have approached me already to ask that the arrangement continues with you included."

"Oh. Okay, lead the way."

Somewhat bewildered at what he was supposed to do with minions, Jason followed Snape over to the corner of the room where he'd been working the first time they'd met. A small group of people, mostly younger than them, was waiting there.

Each of them was named in his turn. About half of the surnames were ones he was unfamiliar with - probably halfblood - and that was probably the reason they'd chosen to align themselves with Snape. That or the fact that Malfoy was unlikely to accept them and to be male and survive in Slytherin house, it definitely helped to have support.

Jonathan Harper and his sister Estelle were purebloods, fourth and second years respectively, their family had been Slytherin for generations but were known for tolerance of mixed blood wizards. Fergus Macmillan, a seventh year from a traditionally light, Hufflepuff family, had been a surprise sorting into Slytherin. He was known for his talent in Astronomy and for his incompetence as a dueller.

Thaddeus Flyte and Kevin Barker were second years with aspirations of playing professional Quidditch. There were a few others but the only one that Jason really noticed was the girl standing in the shadows behind the group, her arms folded over her chest and her hair cropped scandalously short. Gwenog Jones, now sixteen and in her fifth year, had long since declared her lack of interest in a well-connected husband and was already in training in hope of a career in Quidditch. Although Jason couldn't say it, he knew that her dreams at least would come true.

At last, mind spinning, he excused himself for supper. Snape followed, walking at his right shoulder again. When they arrived, Jason noted with surprise that there were two seats waiting for them towards the head of the already full table. Slytherin was a house where everyone was aware of his standing. He watched as Snape took his place one seat further down the table, only a slight sigh and the tightening of his mouth showing his disappointment.

That said, at least he didn't have to sit next to Malfoy any more, Jason thought with grim amusement. Sitting by Newt Scamander III, declared neutral, didn't quite compare despite his Quidditch obsession. From the death glares Snape was giving him, it appeared that he was not a Quidditch fan. To Jason, said glares seemed quite endearing - they had nothing near the effect they would in another twenty odd years.

After eating, Jason excused himself quickly and fled to their room. He'd spent his life from eleven onwards trying to escape his fame and here he was, ordered to establish himself just as notorious. Thankfully, he wasn't the naïve eleven-year-old any more.

When Snape joined him in the room, he had composed himself and was ready to have what was certain to be an awkward discussion.

"You asked that we speak, Derwent?" Snape said, coming in and closing the door softly behind him, looking very uncomfortable. As far as Jason knew, Snape simply didn't do submissive. The whole thing was making him jittery. That was it, he couldn't possibly be expected to keep calm through all of this.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, Snape?" he demanded angrily. "What kind of idiot binds himself to someone he knows nothing about?"

Snape sighed and sat down on the floor by the bed.

"A desperate one."

"Tell me," Jason said. In Lucius Malfoy, it would have been interpreted as an order.

There was a long pause. It appeared Nemesis's guess had been correct. At last, Snape continued. Maybe his magic had interpreted the request as an order and encouraged him to answer.

"You've clearly been fairly isolated, so you probably won't know that I'm infamous in pureblood circles," Snape said, a twisted smile on his face. "I hear them whispering about it at parties, how low the honourable family of Prince has sunk in the past few years. My grandfather isn't a Death Eater - he refuses to bow before a man young enough to be his son - but that being where his sympathies lie, I'm something of an embarrassment. When I was a baby, he swore to give me to the Dark Lord's service when I came of age in exchange for being left alone."

"Bastard," Jason murmured. He'd known the purebloods could be ruthless when they played politics but not this ruthless.

"As you know, I'm now seventeen - my birthday was a month ago. When I go home next, I will be sent to him and I will be marked, I have no choice in the matter. Before you came, I was even considering going to Dumbledore and begging for his help, that's how desperate I was."

He laughed bitterly.

"And your sister? Will she be okay? And why me?"

"Artemis is a girl, the worse that can happen is that father disowns her and no pureblood will marry her. She's got talent, she can make her own way in the world if necessary. If I'm disowned, I would lose everything - my inheritance, all chance of a

decent job… As for my choice, I need someone who can protect me from the Death Eaters, at least in the short run, and until you came the only one more powerful than me in the house was Lucius Malfoy. I think we both know where that would have got me."

"An early grave."

"And now I have no option but to throw myself on your mercy."

Jason took a deep breath.

"I had thought that it might be something like that. I might as well tell you now - I have no intention of ever joining the Death Eaters. Quite the opposite actually, though I don't intend to follow Dumbledore either. As far as I can see, I need someone that I can trust. I haven't got much practical experience with politics so I'd like your advice on that. Other than that, I think we should proceed as we would otherwise. The last thing I want is someone obeying my every command."

The other boy looked at him thoughtfully. That had clearly not been what he'd been expecting.

"I could live with that," he said warily. "I assume you're going to defeat Malfoy soon."

"That was top of my list."

"I'm looking forward to it. I'd be willing to train with you, if you'd like. I've duelled him more than anyone else in the house. He's strong, very strong, but I think there are ways you could beat him."

Jason smiled. It seemed that now the immediate danger was over, Snape was willing to make his own concessions. He was coming to like him more than he'd expected. To dive headfirst into a situation like this took guts that any Gryffindor would be proud of and yet he seemed more ashamed of his actions than pleased.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So, we're coming off hiatus with this one. I apologise for keeping you waiting. The previous chapters have all been edited and I believe there's new material in Chapter 6, so rereading at least that would be recommended. Thank you for sticking with me and enjoy!

* * *

Potions was first on the timetable the next morning and Jason had to admit to being apprehensive. It had never been his best subject and he knew the 'Exceeds Expectations' grade that he'd received a few weeks back when he resat them wouldn't have been enough to get him into Snape's NEWT class.

That was still a strange thought. Somewhere, the connection between Professor Snape the Potions Master and Severus Snape, his dorm mate, had never quite clicked. In the abstract, he knew they were the same and yet… It gave him a headache just thinking about it. Much easier not to. He would have enough to worry about as it was.

Jason arrived in the Potions dungeon early, Snape at his shoulder. That was something he was getting used to faster than expected - the silent, watchful presence was strangely more reassuring than threatening. It was weird given that he'd have been freaked out if any of his Gryffindor friends tried the same thing. Maybe having minions wasn't so hard.

A hand on his back propelled him discreetly towards the front of the room. Jason stopped dead halfway down the aisle. He heard a muttered curse behind him as Snape caught his leg on the corner of a desk in an effort not to run into him. Snape being nice; he wondered how long that would last.

Lily Evans was sitting in the front row, calmly setting up her cauldron. It had to be her. Surely no one else had hair that colour? Snape gave him a shove and he kept walking.

"Severus," she said with a sunny smile as they settled in the double desk across from her. She really was as pretty as the photographs he had of her, Jason noted absently. "Oh, you must be Jason, right? Artemis mentioned that you were in our year. I'm Lily Evans, Gryffindor."

"Uh, hi," Jason stuttered. He didn't need to turn to see that Snape was rolling his eyes at this show of idiocy. Not that Jason had a crush, but that was no doubt what it looked like.

"Will you be at the meeting tonight, Sev?" she asked, turning to his companion. He glared back at her, though it seemed to have no real effect.

"It's ISeverus/I and maybe, as ever, it depends on Slughorn."

"Doesn't it always? You can come with me if you do go - otherwise James will insist on walking me down again and if he does I'm not sure I'll be able to resist hexing him six ways to Sunday…"

Snape snorted; Jason reminded himself that it was all right in the end and quietly kept unpacking his ingredients.

Lily fell silent as the door opened ("five minutes late, as usual", Snape muttered disapprovingly) and Slughorn's considerable bulk pushed it's way through. Jason couldn't help but wonder why they were sitting at the front of the room - certainly Slughorn wasn't scary but that was no reason to want to sit near him when you clearly didn't like him. The ways of Snape were mysterious at times. He paused several times as he wandered through the room, greeting various of his students casually.

It should have been obvious that he'd stop to talk to them.

"Lily my child! Good to see you again, I hope you had a good summer. And Derwent as well. Heard of your father of course, who hasn't, but never had the pleasure of meeting him. Send him my regards, will you? I hope to see you at the little supper I'm having tonight, just a select few of course, a chance to get to know your peers, meet the right sort of people."

"Of course Professor," Lily said, smiling at him. Jason wasn't sure how the smile could be genuinely. In contrast, Snape looked genuinely disgusted. "Severus was just agreeing to escort me."

"Snape hm? Well, if that's what you want, child. Is that the time? Yes we had better get started then," Slughorn said, following Snape's intense stare at the clock. He raised his voice. "Open your books to page 212 please, we'll be making Everlasting Elixirs today, there's just enough time to finish the first stage of the brewing today and we can finish tomorrow. Get out your scales everyone and let's get started."

There were only fifteen of them in the class and yet the dungeon was suddenly a hive of activity as people moved purposefully around the room, collecting the ingredients and equipment that they didn't carry with them. Remembering that he wasn't supposed to know where things were, he stayed in his seat while Snape and Lily collected their things.

"Why Slughorn insists on this book, I honestly don't know," Snape said as he placed a pair of scales in front of each of them, carefully checking that Slughorn was safely at the other end of the room, supervising the issue of ingredients from the cupboard. "It's not the best text out there. It's a good thing Grandfather provides me with appropriate books, if nothing else."

When Jason glanced over at Snape's textbook, it was covered with a tiny black scrawl that completely filled the margins and squeezed annotations in between paragraphs. Lily hadn't even bothered to open her textbook: she was slicing away quite happily as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

Snape squinted at his book for a moment, sending a sideways glance at Lily.

"How are you at Potions, Derwent?" he asked cautiously. Jason wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not. Okay, so he was never going to be a Master, but he'd got into NEWT Potions, hadn't he? Still, best to be honest.

"Not too bad," Jason said, a little unwilling to commit. Snape looked at him measuringly and pushed the bowl of slugs towards him.

"Start by preparing those then; I'll do the valerian roots."

"Um, Snape, the book says to start with the daisy roots," Jason noted, checking the instructions again.

Snape's look reminded him that he was a dunderheaded idiot when it came to Potions.

"I know what the books said but given that Libatius Borage couldn't brew Pepper-Up, let alone Felix Felicis, following that… list blindly would be unwise."

"Oh," Jason said and turned to his slugs. No, arguing with Snape when it came to Potions probably wasn't a good idea.

He'd never have said that he enjoyed Potions - it was a necessary evil - but partnering Snape certainly made things easier. It was a little like partnering Hermione except that Hermione stuck rigidly to the textbook whereas Snape would switch the order around and slice rather than dice and such like. When he did, he'd normally absently explain the switch to him in a voice too quiet to carry along the bench to Lily.

The three cauldrons were ready almost simultaneously. Snape and Lily then had a critical look at each other's concoctions, sniffing the fumes, checking the viscosity and colour… Jason didn't understand more than the odd word.

As soon as Slughorn noticed that they were done, he came bustling back towards them.

"As ever, the first to be ready," he said, his smile including Jason in the group. "Let's see who's closer today then. Derwent, you worked with Snape today, correct? Ah yes, that looks right. Lily, your colour is a shade off but judging by the fumes, I would imagine that the potion is a smidgeon more potent. Bottle them and you're free to go, your prep is a foot-long essay on the developments made by Hector Dagworth-Granger to the field of Potions."

There was silence for a moment while Slughorn moved away and then the tension eased.

"I thought I saw you switching the slugs and the daisy roots at the beginning, Severus?"

"Mm, it mentioned in 'Apprentice to Master' by Laverne de Montmorency that added in that order the daisy roots then act as a catalyst for the valerian."

Jason bottled with efficiency far above and beyond his normal competency in Potions - it didn't take genius to be able to bottle well - and listened with amazement. There had been no one in his Potions classes who understood them like that. Well, not in Gryffindor anyway. Maybe one of the Slytherins had quietly done this each lesson. But why had no one ever told him that his mum was a Potions genius? Charms yes, but maybe his rants about Potions had put them off. Well, he knew now. That would do.

When they left Potions, the three of them headed towards Charms together with plenty of time to spare. Lily seemed full of energy after the reserve that the Slytherins seemed to show, and they followed her outside, taking what Jason knew to be the long way around the building towards the staircase up to the Charms classroom. Hogwarts was quiet at that time, all of the younger years were still in lessons and most of the older ones were studying, but they passed a few people hurrying between the library and common room or heading out for some private Quidditch practice. The Slytherins nodded politely as they passed; some friendly, some with more wary respect than anything else. Lily didn't seem to notice, greeting friends from all the houses with equal cheer.

"Quidditch season's about to start," Lily said, and Jason homed back in on the conversation, which previously had strayed to gossip about people he didn't know and Snape didn't appear interested in. "Do you play, Jason? I assume Sev's staying on as a Beater."

"What?" Jason asked, thinking furiously. No, he couldn't really justify getting a place on the team. James Potter was supposed to be the Quidditch star, not some random Slytherin. He himself had a fairly noticeable flying style that would be best to keep secret. Besides, it would be like flying on antiques. "Oh, yeah, I fly a bit but not seriously. I can support them though. I did hear at breakfast that we had a good chance of beating Gryffindor this year."

"In your dreams, Derwent," she said and laughed. "It's more fun to watch, I think. If you're actually playing then you have to focus on your job and you miss a lot of the exciting bits."

"She says that but the fact is that the Gryffindor team's too strong at the moment for her to get through trials," Snape said with lack of tact that shocked Jason but apparently not Lily, as she just giggled. "Besides, Black's a traditionalist, whatever he says. A girl would have to beat him before he believed she'd be good enough to last a match. A lot of families are short-sighted that way."

"Sirius is a bit of an idiot sometimes," Lily said, "but he's funny so we keep him around."

Snape stepped forward to open the door for them, holding it for them to pass through with what appeared automatic consideration, and they headed back into the corridors. Jason couldn't have said that it was like being with Ron and Hermione - this conversation was sometimes intellectual on both sides and Lily talked about people much more than either of his friends normally did, but the natural camaraderie reminded him of Gryffindor. It was strange that Slytherins could normally cope with such a restrained existence.

The Charms classroom was already filling as they arrived and Lily separated herself neatly from them to sit with Artemis in the corner filled mostly with Ravenclaw girls, Jason and Snape heading towards the opposite corner of the room. It was still Flitwick at the front, perched on his stack of books, and Jason settled back into familiarity.

Immediately after lessons that day, Snape paused by the door to the dungeons.

"Do you want to go to Slughorn's meeting?" he asked. His voice sounded very carefully neutral but the meeting itself had sounded the sort of diplomatic, sucking-up affair that Jason could never picture Snape enjoying.

"Is it worth going to?" Jason asked. Maybe they'd had things like this in his own time and he simply hadn't been invited. Well, he'd been famous but not a pureblood or anything which Slughorn probably found important.

"Only if you want to spend your time spouting flowery praises at Hufflepuffs whose parents just 'happen' to own three wireless shops, or the like. Slughorn would be delighted to see you there, no doubt."

Jason paused for a moment. No, that wasn't going to be fun.

"I'll skip then," he said hastily, then realised that perhaps, after joining him, Snape couldn't go without him. "You can go if you want, I can manage on my own for an evening."

Snape's mouth twitched into what might have been a smile. Jason wasn't sure whether to back away slowly or not: he looked positively delighted. A billowy spin and Snape was marching off towards… the owlery apparently, with Jason half running to catch up with him.

"I suppose we have to tell Slughorn that I'm going to be missing it," Jason ventured, breathing heavily. Snape's legs were clearly quite a bit longer than his.

Snape looked at him incredulously.

"Slughorn? Merlin, no, and don't think that I'm going to that thing if I have the choice. Forget Slughorn completely. If we don't let Evans know, we'll be in for it tomorrow, since she was expecting me to escort her. She'll have to corner Lupin if she's had a row with Potter and then she'll have to sort out his wardrobe before they can go anywhere. No, she's not going to be pleased at me dumping her in it at short notice."

Really, Snape shouldn't sound quite so amused by that.

That evening, they sat together in the common room to do their homework. That seemed to be the normal thing to do in Slytherin. Well, the atmosphere there was more suited to it than the Gryffindor common room, certainly. Still, it was very disconcerting to feel eyes on your back and glance around to see that everyone was focussed on their books. Slytherins were much better at sneaking. Jason glared irritably at a group of seventh year girls on the table next to them and then attempted to get back to Potions.

"What are you bothered about?" Snape asked.

"The bloody staring," Jason muttered, unimpressed.

"Of course they're going to stare: you've come out of nowhere to be an important figure in the house," Snape said, looking amused. He glanced over to the table Jason had been glaring at. "Besides, her younger brother, Baddock Tertius that is, was gunning to defeat himself and I think she's annoyed that you were there first."

"Baddock Tertius?" Jason knew about the Baddock family - there was a boy in his own time who was presumably some relative - but Tertius?

"Roland Baddock, the third son. The rumours have him promised to that second year Emmeline Vance but I doubt that that will go through. Her father has apparently just landed himself a dead-end job in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry," Snape said, as though this sort of information were common knowledge. There was a pause; apparently this was subject closed. "Have you found anything about the applications of the Impervius Charm in warding?"

As they worked, Fergus Macmillan sat down opposite them with a nod, turning silently to his work and seeming to block out anything else, even when a group of first years started a rowdy game of Exploding Snap by the fireplace. That game was quickly squashed by a terse word from Malfoy and they vanished towards the dorms, leaving the common room quiet.

It was all very focussed. That was the word for it. Gryffindor had been a cheerful mix of work and chat and play at any given time, people moving between them at random. There had always been a buzz of conversation there between the end of classes and curfew, and anyone who didn't like it could go work in the library. Hermione had spent a lot of time in the library.

Slytherins seemed to stick to one thing at a time. Before dinner, there had been conversation and games in the common room, a couple of Malfoy's seventh year friends going so far as to put on a little show of illusions for the younger ones (and some of the older ones) to enjoy. Now, though, they were setting to their work with intense concentration.

The old grandfather clock chimed nine o'clock and Snape put down his quill, stretching his arms above his head. Around the room, others seemed to be doing the same.

"That's me done for tonight," Snape said, stacking up his books and packing them into his bag. Jason scrawled a final sentence onto the end of his Charms essay and looked around curiously. There were still a few people working - Macmillan was still going, and a few of the others he thought he recognised as OWL and NEWT candidates - but most of them had finished. Flyte and Barker, on the table next to them, had pulled out a battered looking wizard's chess set from somewhere and were beginning a game with what looked like more enthusiasm than skill, a few of their friends gathered around them.

"Derwent," came a cool voice from above him. Jason jumped, tilting his head back to look Lucius Malfoy in the face.

"Malfoy," he managed, wishing Malfoy would either back off or sit down. Snape appeared not to be paying attention but as Jason shifted in his seat, wondering if he should get up, a hand clamped on his leg, holding him down.

"Do you play Quidditch? We can hold try-outs sometime this weekend, if it suits."

Jason was tempted to laugh. What sort of team left it this late to choose their players? Gryffindor tended to choose them by the second week of term, let alone the start of the season. Still, it was a chance to wind up Malfoy.

"No, actually I don't," he said bluntly, turning back to packing his bag.

"What, the heir to the Derwent family can't fly? That's… pitiful. I suppose it can't be helped, given your father's isolation from decent society."

Jason forced his way out of his seat, glaring up into Malfoy's face and wishing he was just a bit taller. Damn Malfoy for being such a good-looking, impeccably-groomed prat.

"I'm more than competent on a broom, Malfoy, I just think I have better things to do with my time," he snapped. Well, that was mostly true.

"Oh?" Malfoy asked, arching an eyebrow. Jason's fingers clenched around the wand in his pocket, itching to hex the superior look off Malfoy's face. "Very well then, I'll leave you to it."

"You do that then," Jason said grumpily, sitting down again. Malfoy seemed even more amused at that.

"Derwent, Snape," he said, nodding politely to them and sweeping back over to where his friends were reserving the sofas by the fire.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jason stuffed the rest of his books into his bag.

"I'm looking forward to hexing him senseless."

"I noticed," Snape murmured. "The growling gave it away. Do try to remember you're a pureblood."

"So, what now?" Jason asked, resisting the urge to hit him.

"Whatever you choose, Derwent, I'm not your keeper. If you need me, I'll be over there."

With that Snape slipped out of his seat and claimed a seat at the table by the chess game. Jason followed hastily - it wasn't as though he knew anyone else, or trusted himself not to put his foot in it - taking the seat that somehow appeared at Snape's side.

"I'll play the winner," he offered. The game looked about his standard, certainly closer to it than Ron's level and playing was always better than watching.

Snape's look suggested that he'd done something strange but he couldn't bring himself to care. Okay, so maybe he wasn't the classic, formally brought-up pureblood that they all seemed to be expecting but they'd get used to it. Snape would stop him from doing anything really awful and he could always jinx anyone who laughed too much. Jinxing, was that a Gryffindor approach? He no longer knew for sure. Did it really matter? Well, probably not.

Flyte won the game and squirmed as Jonathan Harper reached over to ruffle his hair, batting ineffectively at her hands. Barker switched seats with Jason and he began to set up the pieces for a new game, fiddling with them curiously. For wizards' chess pieces, they were remarkably well-behaved. Maybe they were pureblood chess pieces? Jason held in a snigger with great effort.

As they began the game, Flyte's face became focussed again and Jason smiled as he started considering his strategy. It was nice that the kids felt comfortable around the sixth and seventh years. Slytherin wasn't Gryffindor but it was kind of nice in its own way.


	8. Chapter 8

"The first thing to know about Malfoy is that he's a classically trained dueller," Snape said, pacing the length of the duelling platform. Jason claimed a chair and began fiddling with his shoelaces, half paying attention.

Somehow Snape had managed to shut everyone out of the Upper Common Room. Well, everyone bar them and a couple of Snape's friends. Were they his friends? Jason wasn't sure what else he could call them. They weren't _exactly_ minions, more like assorted younger siblings.

"Classically trained?" Jason asked. Duelling was duelling, wasn't it? You learned to hex someone faster than they could hex you, or block if you couldn't manage it, and that was that.

Snape came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the platform, spun in place with a speed that had his robes billowing around him and fixed Gwenog Jones with a piercing look. She straightened in her chair, putting down her book.

"I'm calling in a favour. Jones, I need Black Minor here in the next five minutes, the usual terms." He watched as she nodded and slipped out of the door down to the common room, then scanned the students scattered sparsely in the echoing hall, muttering as he did so. "Five of us here and not one with classical training."

No one paid him any attention, that or they were carefully pretending not to. Jason grinned, it was the same thing that Gryffindor had always done when Hermione was having a hissy fit in the common room.

It was certainly strange to be in the Upper Common Room when it was so quiet, which might have been why the others looked so uncomfortable, spread around in chairs and sofas, ready to be called on if needed. Similar in size to the Great Hall, furnished like the Slytherin common room, it was the sort of room that Jason wouldn't have been able to imagine deserted before. Even though it was lunchtime on a sunny Saturday, the echoes and dramatic shadows gave Jason the feeling that they were intruding in the middle of the night.

It was lucky that night-time wanderings had never been a problem for him.

"Classical training - is it that big a deal, Snape?" he said. Snape's eyes slid shut His wand hand was twitching, as if he was straining not to grab his wand.

A moment's silence. Jason watched him curiously, wondering if he was going to get an insult or a hex in response to the question. The entrance to the common room swung open again before he found out.

Regulus Black looked like Sirius's smaller, slighter shadow, if a shadow could be better groomed than the original. His eyes were glancing around nervously, pausing as he pinpointed the locations of the other students. Jason wondered if he expected to be hexed by them: it didn't strike him as a very Slytherin thing to do, given how tied up in ritual everyone was.

"It's not that I mind, Snape - I mean, I owe you for the help with Potions - but what exactly am I doing here?"

Jason was rather curious about that himself. He didn't know how old the kid was but his voice hadn't settled yet. Was there really something that Regulus could do that Snape couldn't?

"I need you for a duelling demonstration," Snape said, wand tapping against his thigh. At that, some of the tension left and Regulus stepped inside followed by Gwenog and another boy. Snape sighed. "Did you have to bring Crouch with you?"

The look Regulus gave him spoke volumes. Crouch - Barty Crouch? - perched on a wooden chair at the other side of the platform from Jason, catching Regulus's outer robe before it hit the floor. Regulus - stripped down to trousers and shirt - climbed onto the platform, joined by Gwenog a moment later. Snape leapt lightly off the platform to take a seat by Jason.

The duel, such as it was, lasted mere seconds.

The count ended. Gwenog fired off her spell with a reaction speed that must have been honed by Quidditch and not entirely natural; Regulus let off a flurry of spells in response, a fluid movement as deadly as it was graceful. Gwenog blocked the first two, the third sent her flying the length of the platform.

Regulus hurried over and offered her a hand up; she glared and didn't take it.

"That," Snape said, "Is classical-style duelling. When Malfoy finishes school, it's a safe bet that Black will be leading that faction."

"It's not so hard," Regulus said, face tinged with red. "It's like dancing. If her first move is 'expelliarmus', then the response is that pattern. It just takes practice."

Dancing? Jason hoped Snape wasn't planning to make him learn to duel like that. After the disaster that the Yule Ball had been, that wasn't high on his list of things to repeat.

"What Black's trying to say," Snape said with a sigh, turning to Jason, "Is that Malfoy is fast - he doesn't have to stop and consider his response, it's been trained into him. If you consider each move as it comes, you won't be quick enough."

"Snape, I…"

"You won't be quick enough," Snape repeated sharply. "You're not that much faster than I am, Derwent, and Malfoy is considerably faster than Black. There is no one in the school who has been able to match Malfoy since he was fourteen, that you might even stand a chance is impressive enough."

Jason sighed and got up. Snape couldn't realise that he hadn't seen everything Jason was capable of yet. He was fast, damn it, and a lot faster when he wasn't focussed on showing off for the crowds.

"Right, I'll take your word for it," he conceded. If nothing else, it would be fun to have a shot at a new opponent. "Where do I start?"

Snape paused; Jason could almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

"Up on the platform. Black owes me at least five minutes."

Regulus laughed, twirling his wand in his fingers as he obligingly returned to the centre of the platform.

"Is it okay for you to be helping?" Jason asked as he jumped up to join him. Regulus tilted his head, his look curious. "I mean, if you're with Malfoy's crowd. It wouldn't be fair to you to get in trouble because of me."

Regulus frowned. "Malfoy's engaged to my cousin; he's not my master. It can't hurt for you to owe me a favour or two. Private arrangement, it's nothing to do with him."

Apparently that was enough. Snape was giving him murderous looks behind Regulus's back so Jason decided to shut up as requested. Sometimes he wondered whether he was really in charge here and whether he really cared if he wasn't.

"If you're sure. Snape, give us the count please."

It took Regulus a minute to knock him flat on his back. Jason sighed and clambered to his feet. Okay, he clearly wasn't ready yet. There was only one thing to do.

"Again, please."

* * *

Each Thursday evening, Jason had a three hour one-to-one lesson in Ancient Runes. It wasn't as boring as he'd feared. Yes they spent a lot of time memorising the damn things and working through simple interpretations, but they also spent a lot of time discussing the civilisations which had first used them, straying off topic to discuss various wizarding cultures, past and present.

That the lessons were accompanied by tea and cakes was just a bonus.

Jason was no longer surprised to pass Artemis Snape waiting outside when he came out of the office, a stack of books and parchment rolls in her arms. It was no secret that she was Ravenclaw's top student in the theoretical subjects. He was surprised to see her red-faced and out of breath.

"Potter and Black are fighting with Severus in the Trophy Room," she said, the words falling over each other as they spilled from her mouth. "The other two as well."

Jason swore, forgetting for a moment that she probably wasn't used to that kind of language, and set off at a run, hearing her being invited into the office behind him.

Okay, so Snape had probably started it, or provoked it, at any rate, but two - or three or four - to one wasn't fair odds, particularly not if Sirius was anywhere near as good a dueller as Regulus was.

It didn't matter if a new student wouldn't know about the passageway behind the portrait of Baldric the Bald that cut the corner off the circular route around the guest suites, Jason's feet pounded up the narrow staircase, ducking the beams that jutted out from the stone walls, leaving clouds of dust billowing in his path. He burst out through the slit in the tapestry outside the Trophy Room door, skidding along the polished wood floor as he slipped into the room, ducking the jets of magic that were shooting across the room.

A wave of his wand extinguished the lights and there was a sudden, ringing silence.

Jason took a careful step so that he was in front of the corner where Snape had stationed himself and turned so he was facing the Gryffindor side of the room, ready to block any spells sent his way.

"Enough!" he half shouted. Jason paused, wand held tightly in his hand, and listened for a reaction. Nothing. He swallowed, regained his composure. He really, really didn't want to have to take sides in a fight between his dad and Snape, who was becoming one of his friends. "Enough."

A swish restored the light. Jason assessed the situation quickly, wand still out and ready. The Gryffindors had taken a beating. There was a moment while everyone paused, blinking the dots from their eyes. Jason waited, watching for the reaction.

A glance in his direction and Sirius and James turned to each other, conjuring a makeshift crutch for Sirius and bandages for the cuts that were spreading puddles of red across the white canvas of James's shirt. Both of them were an attractive shade of green that would probably have been funny at another time. Pettigrew was slumped in a corner, unconscious. Lupin was crouched in front of him, very pale but apparently unscathed.

Jason eyed them. They were busy: it was probably safe. He didn't like being dismissed as 'not a threat' but it made things easier. Jason stepped sideways so his back was to the wall and not to the 'enemy' and twisted to look behind.

"What are you doing here?" Snape hissed, left hand flicking a stray lock of hair behind his ear in a semblance of its normal neatness. His eyes were still fixed on the Gryffindors, wand held lightly in his fingers. Jason had a disconcerting thought that if it had been anyone else who walked through the door, Snape wouldn't have stopped the fight whether he could see or not.

"Four on one," Jason said. Of course he'd come, when his friend was up against those sorts of odds? He looked him over. It was hard to tell but Snape looked basically unharmed, if dishevelled. That was impressive.

"And? I'm more than capable of holding my own, Derwent," Snape snapped, turning to glare at him.

"Why should you have to?" Jason asked, chin up as he met the glare head-on. "I made a promise, remember."

Snape looked away, head dropping. His hair hung forwards, hiding his face.

"I've stood on my own for six years. I may not have been able to defeat Malfoy on the duelling platform but you don't have to protect me as though I were a child."

Jason stared. Treat him like a child? _Snape_ of all people was accusing him of that? Snape, who didn't seem to be able to tell Jason anything without both of them being conscious of his superior knowledge? All he'd done was go in to check he was ok.

"Right then," Jason said, trying very hard not to shout as he tucked his wand back into its holster and straightened his robes. "I'm going to bed, since you apparently don't need me. Goodnight. Oh, and Snape? If you could let your sister know that you're still in one piece, she'd probably appreciate it."

There was a grunt from Snape. Jason clenched his teeth and marched out of the room. Was it unrealistic to hope for a little gratitude? Next time he wouldn't bother running halfway across the castle in the hope of helping him.

The dorm was dark when Snape came in. Truly dark, not the half-light of Jason's old bedroom back with the Dursleys where he would lie awake and watch the play of shadows that the streetlamp outside made on his wall. It was also quiet in a way that it had never been up in Gryffindor, the heavy, wooden door, the thick stone walls and ceiling blocking out any murmurings from the common room.

Even so, if Jason hadn't been lying awake listening, he wouldn't have heard Snape slip through the door. Snape moved with the lightness and efficiency of one who was used to passing unnoticed. There was just the rustle of cloth on cloth as he changed and slipped into bed, a slight 'clunk' as he laid his wand on the table by the bed.

There was silence for a long moment. Jason lay there, wishing that he'd remembered sooner that Snape _was_ emotionally dense and prone to insulting people who helped him. Merlin, he'd known that for years!

"Goodnight," Snape said, quiet voice breaking the silence. It wasn't apologetic or even conciliatory. Jason couldn't stop the little smile that appeared on his face. Snape was still talking to him; he hadn't completely mucked up. He rolled over, burrowing under the layers of blankets, listening to Snape's quiet, even breathing from across the room.

"Snape?"

"Yes?" came the immediate response, though Jason had wondered if Snape was sleeping.

"Tomorrow I'm going to challenge Malfoy."

A long pause.

"Go to sleep or you'll be dozing at breakfast tomorrow and miss him completely."

Jason muffled the laugh in his pillow and shut his eyes. Tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning he was woken, as had become routine, by a hand on his shoulder and the lights coming on. Groaning, he rolled out of bed. By the time his eyes came open, Snape was back on the other side of the room, fastening his green and silver tie with an amount of care ridiculous in one who tied one every day.

"Snape? Okay there?"

Snape didn't look up, just reached for a comb.

"You're going to be late if you stand there much longer," he said neutrally. Jason paused. Snape clearly didn't want to talk about it, but did that mean the subject was closed? There was no way of telling - but nothing he could really do about it anyway. Besides, Snape was annoyingly right. Again. If he didn't get a move on, he'd miss Malfoy at breakfast all together.

A flurry of activity and he was ready to go.

Jason stopped a metre inside the door, his way blocked. Snape looked him up and down, with the same, assessing gaze that he liked to give a potion that may or may not have failed spectacularly, then stepped aside. He walked past, a nervous glance back told him that Snape had fallen into step a pace behind him.

This was familiar. Jason took a deep breath and headed out.

The others - Gwenog and Macmillan and the rest - fell in behind them as they passed through the common room, other students watching them with unconcealed interest. A firm hand in the small of his back made Jason keep walking. They came into the Great Hall together, Jason and Snape at the front of the little group. Though he couldn't stop himself from glancing around, Jason couldn't actually spot anyone from the other houses who had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The Slytherins knew, no doubt about that. They were watching them approach with the caution that one showed a hippogriff that hadn't yet decided if it was going to bow.

Lucius Malfoy stood up as they approached, robes falling in place around him with natural ease, a couple of friends standing with him. After Snape's previous insistence on walking behind him, Jason was a little surprised when he stepped forwards.

"We're challenging," Snape said. Looking sideways out of the corner of his eye, Jason could see a smirk playing around his lips. "Does this evening suit you?"

Malfoy ignored him, looking Jason up and down. Their contact so far had been limited, each of them staying within his own year group, within his own group of friends. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and nodded to Regulus, seated at his right hand.

"Very well," Regulus said solemnly, the teasing boy from the duelling session completely absent. "This evening at eight in the Upper Common Room."

"Acceptable," Snape said, and took his seat. A moment's hesitation - and a discreet tug on his robes - and Jason slid into his place next to him. Malfoy ignored them for the rest of the meal, but that was par for the course. Jason, with an uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched, kept looking up from his food, catching the eyes of Regulus, sitting across from him.

"Pull yourself together, Black," Snape muttered, quiet enough that no one other than Jason would hear. Jason sighed. Honestly, why did they all have to be quite so restrained about things? He'd rather be fielding questions than be stared out all the time.

As soon as they escaped the Great Hall, Jason pulled Snape into a corner.

"What the hell was all that about? I thought it was me doing the fighting here."

Snape's look was unimpressed.

"This is a f_duel_, and a duel between faction leaders, not a private challenge. As a result, you let your second handle the talking and focus on the duelling," he said. He looked at Jason, stopped and sighed. "Forget about the politics, just knock the idiot off the platform and leave the rest to me. I'll explain it to you later."

It would be a lie to say that lessons did anything other than drag that day. With eyes watching him covertly all day and the prospect of a tough fight later, Jason was very, very tempted to skive for perhaps the first time, only Snape's firm presence at his side preventing him from vanishing until he could acutally duel and get it over with. He ate a light supper in the kitchens, and then shut himself firmly in the dormitory, sprawled on his bed and staring up at the canopy above him.

"Losing your nerve?" came the quiet question, as Jason heard the muffled thud of the door closing. "Unless you're going to forfeit, it's too late to back out now."

"I'm not chickening out!" Jason said, propping himself up on an elbow so he could glare at Snape, whose half-smile belayed the seriousness of his voice. "I just don't like waiting."

A snort. Snape sat down on the other bed and leaned back against the wall, Potions book open on his lap. He lifted his self-inking quill from his desk and scribbled a note before looking up again.

"Sometimes I wonder if you should have been a Gryffindor - no Slytherin I know rushes things like you do. Wait a bit longer and there'll be a bigger audience to watch you win, which only raises your standing. Mine by extension."

Jason swallowed. Gryffindor, was he? Should have known that Snape would have been watching him.

"I didn't see you worrying about the audience yesterday, did I?" he retorted, irritated at the thought that he might not have been working hard enough to bring out his Slytherin side.. "You just wanted to curse them six ways to Sunday."

Snape let his book lie abandoned in his lap, the half-teasing tone vanishing from his voice. "That's a private matter, not a house one, and it has nothing to do with you."

Jason scowled. It had nothing to do with him only in that he would spend (or had spent?) five years being treated like an idiot because of this childish feud.

"It's my business because I swore an oath - a blood oath, no less - that I wouldn't let you do anything that stupid! You're a Slytherin, where's your common sense? If you're going to take on four at once, at least have some back-up," he said. Then he really looked across the room, noting the closed off expression and the frown. "I shouldn't have said that. Sorry. Could we just forget it?"

There was an awkward silence. Snape's eyes dropped and he sighed.

"No, I swore you a blood oath, you have the right. I'll stop looking for trouble, though I can't promise that they will give me the opportunity to come and find you. That's irrelevant now, though. It's about time to head up."

Jason sprang off the bed. He rather hoped that was issue resolved, at least for a while, and now he had the opportunity to hex Malfoy in an authority sanctioned (or at least ignored) duel.

Apart from the length of the build-up, this duel already had a very different feel from the one again Snape.

This time he changed into his formal duelling robes with Snape helping him with the lacings and ties, and they headed out together, side by side and with no doubt as to where they were headed. As they stepped into the Upper Common Room, it was like being hit with a wall of sound. The room was packed, the chairs full and a lot of the younger students standing around by the walls.

Malfoy wasn't there yet so Jason chosen an end of the platform and walked down, unable to stop himself looking around at all the people who were watching him. Snape was ignoring them with a calm that Jason couldn't help but envy.

As he reached his corner, surrounded by his friends, he began to feel his senses sharpening, honing in on what was to come. Jason closed his eyes and tried to pretend that it was just like a Quidditch match. He'd have a few minutes to do his stretches and then… then the match would begin.

"Derwent," Malfoy said, voice distant. Jason's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet before his brain had caught up, wand out. Snape touched his arm as he stepped up onto the platform.

"Knock him off the platform, right Snape?" Jason said, the grin possibly getting slightly manic. Snape's didn't crack a smile.

"Win."

Jason nodded and went on, leaving Snape standing at the side. He paced forward until he saw the ornately carved line marking the exact centre of the platform in front of his feet and then looked up. He had to raise his eyes. Malfoy was a head taller and stood there with the poise and the arrogant tilt of the chin that said that he was the reigning prince of Slytherin and, even more clearly, that he knew it. When Jason had been 12, that self-confidence had intimidated him, now it just seemed empy arrogance.

No, he'd done his research. Malfoy was good but nothing he couldn't beat.

"May your magic guide you," Malfoy said at last, the sneer making Jason tighten his grip on his wand as he forced himself to echo the ritual phrase. Malfoy held his gaze for a moment then turned with a swish of robes that suggested that he'd gone for showy rather than efficient in his clothing choice.

As they retreated ten paces, the room fell silent and Jason could hear the shuffling as Regulus climbed onto the middle of the platform. He turned, bowed stiffly and settled into his stance, body low in its crouch and turned sideways to Malfoy's wand. Regulus hadn't even stepped inwards to the exact centre - he was balancing on the very edge of the platform, ready to leap for the safety of the crowd. Jason couldn't blame him: things were likely to get very nasty, very fast… very fast indeed.

"On the count of three. One… two… three!"

"Deprimo!" Malfoy called instantly and was casting again before the spell had impacted. "Reducto!"

Jason swayed this way and that to miss Malfoy's first barrage, defectling the odd wide-range curse with his wand. Oh yes, Malfoy was most definitely fast.

This was going to be fun.

"Incarcerus!" Malfoy called, moving into the next series of spells, and Jason ducked, allowed his body to slip into auto-pilot while he considered his options. The aggressive style that had worked against Snape wouldn't stand up here - it would leave him too open. No, he'd have to attempt what he'd managed against Regulus and rely on his reflexes to see him through.

Malfoy duelled very much like Regulus except that instead of dancing as if he were in a ballroom, he was dancing with knives. Each move was calculated to the exact angle and extension, and whirled naturally into the next in a rhythm that pressed relentlessly against Jason's defenses.

A block, a stunner powerful enough to knock Malfoy back even through a shield, another block… Jason crept forwards on the platform. As he narrowed the gap, the pace got faster and faster as the space to react shrunk.

Malfoy's face was going red, his breathing heavy, as his rhythm was forced faster and faster but he was matching Jason blow for blow. Jason's heart pounded in his ears as he pushed himself to keep the pressure on. This wasn't the duel with Snape, a series of testing skirmishes. This was a single shootout from which there would be one victor.

It would be him. He wouldn't let himself lose.

The gap between them was half what it had been, only ten paces. For an instant Jason could see the sweat beading on Malfoy's forehead, and then nothing as another volley of spells filled the space with streaks of light. Blinded, he dropped into a crouch, shield charm blazing in front of him, a nasty-looking blue curse spitting sparks as it seared the air above him.

A curse like that took a lot of power, a lot of energy. Jason hastily switched mental gears.

Then Jason was leaping forwards, springing forwards like a sprinter out of the blocks, closing down the gap between them. He poured his energy into his shield. It had to hold, had to hold just long enough.

He was two steps away when a hex caused his shield to splutter and disappear, leaving him wide open. The next hex would destroy him.

Jason let out a wordless shout of aggression and flung himself at Malfoy, arms pinning his hands to his side, tackling him to the ground. Malfoy stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief.

Jason took the moment to snatch Malfoy's wand from his hand and to put his own wand to Malfoy's neck.

"Incarcerous," Jason gasped, and allowed himself to sag back as the black robes shot out to wind themselves around Malfoy. He knelt there, panting, waiting for the trembling in his limbs to stop with Malfoy lying bound beside him.

"Black, call it," Snape prompted sharply from somewhere behind him, voice cutting effortlessly through the shocked discussion. Suddenly everyone was silent.

"Duel's over," Regulus said, voice seeming shaky and unsure in contrast. "Derwent wins."

Suddenly Snape's solid arm was around him, handing him a glass of water with the other hand. Jason let Snape ground him, only vaguely noticing when Malfoy's friends cut the ropes and helped him to his feet. He forced himself to sip the water slowly, relishing the coolness.

It was only when he finished the glass that he turned. "So, how was that, Snape?"

Then he stopped. Snape was smiling. Really, truly smiling, not a smirk or the sardonic half-smile.

"Severus," he said, gripping Jason's arm at the elbow as he half lifted him to his feet. "After that display, it's Severus."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Jason nodded.

"Right, then you'd better tell me whatever comes next, Severus," he said with a smile as Snape released his arm. "Or I'll probably do something unforgivable and we'd be stuck with Malfoy again."

The smile slid into a smirk and Snape looked around at the chaos of the room.

"There's not much, just go and pretend to be a gracious winner." A quirk of the eyebrow. "No, you might even manage that without pretending. Anything else can wait and people will expect it to, given the state you're in."

Jason relaxed, picking up and flexing one foot and then the other. Malfoy had claimed a chair just to one side of the platform and wrapped himself in a heavy cloak over his robes. Jason climbed off the platform, then turned back.

"Aren't you coming too?" he asked. "You're my second, after all."

Snape's laugh was indulgent, stopping abruptly when Jason tugged him so he was walking level with him. It had been okay when Snape was pretending to be a minion but Severus was a friend. Snape frowned but relented. Somehow Jason thought that was probably something else they'd be discussing later.

Malfoy rose to his feet as they approached, none of the grace lacking though perhaps missing some of the aura of confidence that had previously surrounded him.

"Derwent, well fought." He smiled sardonically. "Unconventional, to be sure, but effective."

"Only thing I could do then, with myh shield collapsed," Jason said, trembling slightly at the mere memory. "Your style is incredible, I've seen anything quite like it."

Malfoy looked penetratingly at him. Jason wasn't sure why - surely he was used to praise. He shuffled from foot to foot, wishing Snape or Malfoy would say something to break the silence.

"Some of us had the benefit of a proper education," Malfoy said at last. Looking pained, he held out of his hand. Jason wiped his hand hurriedly on his robes and grasped it firmly. "Congratulations on your success. Now, if you'll excuse me."

They watched him go, swallowed up into a crowd of his supporters. Once he'd vanished through to the common room, Jason turned and allowed himself to turn to look at his friends. Then he was surrounded, shaking hands, seeing faces he recognised and others he didn't, bracing himself as he was pounded on the back.

He'd won. Mission one, accomplished.

Maybe Severus would give Jason a duel like that when he let himself go. He'd have to see. Duelling Malfoy had been an adrenaline rush like nothing else. Not even Quidditch compared to that!

* * *


End file.
